Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs Competition
by wordsmithsandbetas
Summary: Thirty Entries written by multiple authors for the W&B Rare Pairs Competition.
1. Cover Page

Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pair One Shot Competition

Prompt: Writers are allowed to submit up to three separate one shot stories that take place in the Harry Potter universe.

Time Period: Any

Pairing: Any, Rare.

Word Count: 1,000 minimum - 7,000 maximum

A pairing is considered rare if it has fewer than 5,000 stories existing on fanfiction . net when searched by pairing.

The following works are submissions to the Wordsmiths & Betas facebook group email by individual authors or author groups. All stories on this profile are works submitted, not the work of any one author. Entries will be remain anonymous to all judges and readers until the time of voting is completed. Only the author, their beta, and one moderator are aware of the identities of the writer for each submission.

All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

Please read each chapter, leave an appropriate review based on the writer's listed preference, and vote for your favorites in the link in the facebook group! Voting period is from 9 July 2016 - 30 July 2016. Happy reading!

Chapter 2 - Forever and Always (Number 1)

Chapter 3 - Aphelion (Number 2)

Chapter 4 - If the Fates Allow (Number 3)

Chapter 5 - Unexpected Lancelot (Number 4)

Chapter 6 - Rude (Number 5)

Chapter 7 - An Eye for An Eye (Number 6)

Chapter 8 - The Match (Number 7)

Chapter 9 - Their Satisfaction (Number 8)

Chapter 10 - Pansy's Tiara (Number 9)

Chapter 11 - 90 Days (Number 10)

Chapter 12 - Healing the Dragon (Number 11)

Chapter 13 - The Choices of Tomorrow (Number 12)

Chapter 14 - Dance Amongst the Stones (Number 13)

Chapter 15 - Between the Greenhouse and the Pumpkin Patch (Number 14)

Chapter 16 - The Baby Shower (Number 15)

Chapter 17 - Harry Bloody Potter And The Awkward Tea Party (Number 16)

Chapter 18 - Paperwork, Priorities, and Pleasure (Number 17)

Chapter 19 - A Single Act of Kindness (Number 18)

Chapter 20 - One Spark (Number 19)

Chapter 21 - Trial & Error (Number 20)

Chapter 22 - A Promise Kept (Number 21)

Chapter 23 - Punishing the Wicked (Number 22)

Chapter 24 - Not With a Bang (Number 23)

Chapter 25 - One Beast, Two Beasts (Number 24)

Chapter 26 - Comeuppance (Number 25)

Chapter 27 - Some Things Go (Number 26)

Chapter 28 - Ballad (Number 27)

Chapter 29 - Alone Inside My Head (Number 28)

Chapter 30 - When Harry Wed Jimmy? (Number 29)

Chapter 31 - Susan Bones Visits The Cave (Number 30)


	2. Forever and Always (Number 1)

**Wandlore Wordsmithes & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Forever and Always (Number 1)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmithes & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: The Author was unsure. I believe this to be T. - Megan**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst**

 **Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Hermione Granger**

 **Trigger Warnings: Character Death**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

 **Beta love:** _snapeslittleblackbuttons_

 **A/N** : Based off a song of the same title by Parachute

* * *

 **Forever and Always**

* * *

Hermione Granger made her way around the kitchen, her heels clicking quietly as she tidied up the space. She straightened the burgundy cloth covering their dining room table and with a flick of her wand, conjured up a small vase of daffodils to place at the center.

She glanced around the apartment, smiling fondly in remembrance of the memories they would be leaving behind. Just that morning, they'd finalized the contract for their very own home. It was a quaint little structure on the outskirts of Surrey and just what she'd always envisioned for starting a family.

It was Friday evening, and she'd taken the day off to prepare a relaxing meal in celebration. Today marked three years since she'd stumbled into the most _unexpected_ love of her life in a Muggle tavern and seven months since he'd dropped to one knee. Their wedding was planned for early October, a quiet affair in the midst of her favorite season.

She chewed her lip, visions of tea lights, her smiling friends, and a beaming Blaise Zabini drifting before her eyes.

The daydream swept her back to the first time she saw that grin directed at her, a row of gleaming teeth stark against dark skin that would leave her a puddle on the floor.

 _July 1998_

Hermione threw back her fourth shot in an hour, grabbing her pint to wash down the bitter taste. The music was loud and the patrons were obnoxious, but she needed an out, and she wouldn't find it in the wizarding world.

That was what brought her to downtown Muggle London, tucked away at the far end of a dingy bar, drowning in her misery. _Or alcohol._

She'd only returned to the country that morning after failing to bring her parents home. When she'd altered their memories the year before, she was confident in her ability to return them to their previous state with no complications. Unfortunately, the brightest witch of her age was unable to reverse the effects of the spell she'd created and was ultimately forced to leave her beloved parents as "Wendell and Monica Wilkins" in Australia.

 _Hermione felt hollow._

After a year on the run and losing so many friends and acquaintances to the war, reuniting her family was supposed to be the one _good_ part of her summer. She was vaguely aware that someone had sank into the stool beside her, the only seats in the bar tucked away in the shadows.

She glanced over at the intruder, half hidden behind her curtain of curls. She did a double take when she recognized the face staring down at her.

"Hermione Granger," he drawled, tipping his head in greeting.

"Blaise Zabini?" Her words came out like a question. It wasn't that she didn't know who the man was. He'd shared the same classes with her for six years at Hogwarts, and albeit the house difference - he was a _Slytherin_ \- she wasn't quick to forget a handsome face.

"In the flesh," he winked, tossing her a charming smile. His voice was every bit as smooth as she remembered it to be.

 _Not that I spent my time drooling over school boys..._

No, what had her confused was what Blaise Zabini - aristocrat, wizard, and _sympathizer_ to Voldemort's campaign - was doing in Muggle London.

She glanced around the bar, making sure no one was eavesdropping before speaking. "Why are you _here?_ Are you lost?" She frowned, watching him curiously for an explanation.

Shrugging, he offered little response. Apparently she wasn't the only one hiding. After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, he spoke.

"It wasn't easy, Granger." He paused when she gave him an incredulous look.

 _No shit, Zabini_ , she thought, face flushing furiously at his words.

"Sorry…" he mumbled, "I know it wasn't easy for you. _I know_. But the rest of us…" He shook his head. "You weren't there, Granger. You weren't at school with those monsters. You didn't torture innocent children, and you didn't have to play the bad guy so _maybe_ the Carrow's would go easy on you that week. People don't shy away from you like you're sick. Like you're _dangerous."_

He took a long pull from his glass of whiskey before slamming it back to the counter with a force that showed the memories still plagued him. Hermione jumped, startled by his sudden movement.

"We all did what we had to," she whispered.

He grunted his acknowledgement, and Hermione took the moment of silence to finish off her own pint. She should be grateful for the company, she knew that, but it was hard when the person gracing you with their presence was someone you were made to despise.

She shook her head, not wanting to think that way. _The war's over, Hermione. Let go._

That night, she did just that by drowning herself in a different fashion - with a handsome Slytherin man in her sheets. And drown, _she would_.

She drowned in his eyes, like molten chocolate. His skin, smooth and firm and so delicious that she was determined to taste every inch of him.

She drowned in his touch, his kiss, in the ecstasy that was him, Blaise _-_ aristocrat _,_ wizard, sympathizer, _absolutely perfect._

She drowned. Oh, how she _drowned,_ and she never fully recovered. Because from that night on, she needed him like she needed the very air she breathed. She vowed she would make him hers, and _she did._

The timer on the stove went off, and Hermione carefully placed its contents onto the wooden table, arranging the steaming chicken and potatoes beside a bowl of fresh greens. She grabbed a book before settling down on a stool with a glass of wine, content to wait for his arrival.

Forty-five minutes and three glasses later, he was _officially_ late. Hermione twisted her mouth into a deep frown as she glanced at the clock. Blaise was meticulous in all that he did, and that included _always_ being on time.

She briefly wondered if he was picking up something special for the evening: a gift, perhaps? Her thoughts were interrupted as a large, wispy swan swept through the room, appearing from thin air.

She startled, shocked to see the patronus, and felt all color draining from her face as it spoke in a serious tone, booming across the quiet of the small apartment.

" _Miss Granger, something has happened. Your presence is required immediately at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Mala—"_

The message was lost as she spun on the spot, Apparating away into the darkness.

xxx

She arrived with a _pop!_ in the middle of a busy corridor with nurses bustling about and visitors milling around. She rushed to the nearest desk, frantic to find out why she had been summoned.

Just as she began to call out for the receptionist, she heard her name.

"Hermione Granger?" The elderly Healer spoke.

She whipped around, eager for information. "Yes!" She all but shouted. "I'm her. Blaise… Where's Blaise?"

The nurse gave her a quick explanation of what happened, focusing on getting Hermione to the correct room quickly lest she meet the wrath of the fiery Gryffindor.

Blaise Zabini, with good word from the " _famous_ " Hermione Granger, had worked his way through the Auror program and quickly became one of the Ministry's finest. Hermione knew he took his job very seriously because he had felt the need to redeem his years of putrid behavior and cleanse his mind of the utter _shite_ his mother fed him growing up.

He was good at what he did - clever, diligent, quick with a wand and brute in force.

Unfortunately, this painted a huge target on his back. Aside from Harry Potter himself, Blaise was the most highly sought after by dark wizards who didn't appreciate Aurors trying to sentence them to life in Azkaban, _or worse_.

Hermione's biggest fears were confirmed as the Healer explained the extent of his injuries.

 _Unidentifiable curse, still spreading, we're so sorry…_

The words hung in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if the gesture alone would hold her together. It couldn't, and she fell apart: Remarkably. _Completely_.

The nurse left her after a few soft spoken words, and Hermione tried her best to collect herself before facing this nightmare.

She pushed the door open with a creak and stepped inside tentatively, worried that she may disturb him if he were asleep.

She was greeted with a soft smile she'd come to love over the years, and willed the tears back as she scanned him quickly, realizing that despite his warm gesture, he looked absolutely horrible.

"You look like shite," she croaked. Blaise laughed, a deep rasp that made him cough and shook his entire frame.

Resting herself on the edge of the bed, she took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and gripping them tight. "You were supposed to stay safe."

Her sobs seemed to echo in the quiet of the room, but she couldn't stop the clenching of her heart, and _oh Merlin,_ she gasped, _I can't breathe_. He shushed and consoled from his spot on the bed, while she felt awful because it should be _her_ soothing him.

Eventually she'd calmed, and they talked and talked, from memories of drunken nights with friends to arguing over names of their future children. For a moment, she could almost forget the reason why they were there, in that room. _Almost._

After what felt like hours, he made the request. " _Tesoro mio",_ he spoke softly. "Bring our friends."

Hermione stared into his eyes, reading the silent plea for what it truly was. _Bring our friends,_ she thought, _it's almost time._

So she nodded and stood, moving from the room as her heart was squeezed again, _constricted_ , and her eyes blurred from fighting back the tears.

She reached the private waiting room just down the hall, and unsurprisingly, found Harry Potter seated in one of the chairs, looking rumpled and out of place in his wrinkled Auror robes.

Their eyes met, _red rim to red rim,_ and he was sweeping her into a bone crushing embrace before she had the chance to break down again.

"How bad is it?" he asked gently, but the resignation was burning in his eyes and _she knew_ he knew.

Hermione smiled sadly before pulling her wand and sending a simple message to their closest friends.

"Please come to St. Mungo's as soon as you can. Ask for Blaise."

The pair watched her translucent otter glide off before moving back towards Blaise's room with heavy steps and even heavier hearts.

She shooed Harry inside before sending off one last message to Ginny.

Soon the room had filled one by one. Stories were shared, laughter was loud, and not a single eye was dry by the time the hour passed.

Hermione let her eyes fall to each of their friends that had gathered to comfort Blaise. Draco Malfoy was here, with Theodore Nott. There on the sofa were the Potters - Harry and Ginny - and Pansy Parkinson had pulled up two chairs to be close to Blaise, her wife Daphne at her side. Neville had stopped by and left shortly after because _he couldn't do it_ and she didn't blame him. He'd already lost so much.

The timing felt right, so she slipped into the hall, returning moments later with the Minister of Magic.

Blaise looked at her curiously from the comforts of the bed - _as much comfort as he could possibly get -_ before he finally let the tears spring forth that he'd fought for hours to hold in.

Ginny stepped forward and handed two small, golden rings to Hermione, who held one out to Blaise, giving him a look of unconditional love.

"I want you forever…" she spoke softly, and everyone in the room quieted to hear the words. "Forever and _always_. Through the good and the bad and the ugly." She sniffled, trying to get out her promises without losing it.

"We'll grow old together, and always remember- whether happy or sad or _whatever..."_

They laughed, and Hermione moved to kiss Blaise gently on the mouth. She let the tears fall as his words ghosted across her lips.

" _Ancora ci ameremo per sempre tesoro mio_ "

And his words wrapped her, _consumed her,_ filled her with joy.

"Forever and always," she whispered.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forth, pulling out a thin, satin ribbon. The Minister of Magic wrapped it loosely around their intertwined hands and spoke an incantation for all to hear.

The string glowed bright gold before seemingly melting into their skin, binding the pair as _husband and wife._

Everyone in the room _whooped_ and hollered, clapping each other on the back and embracing with tears swimming in their eyes.

Hermione felt more alive in that moment than she ever had before because _they'd done it!_

 _I'm yours._

And _can't live without you_ love had fueled the spur of the moment, bittersweet, fastest wedding known to man.

Draco leaned forward, kissing her cheek before pressing his forehead right to Blaise's own, whispering words only the two could hear. Harry clasped the blonde's shoulder, ready to steer him off gently because he'd begun shaking as sobs ripped from his throat, a sound that could break hearts.

There was so much raw emotion in that tiny room Hermione thought surely the walls would burst at their seams. She held Blaise's hand, running her thumb across the smooth, golden band as their loved ones said their _final_ goodbyes.

Tears dripped to the floor, and she swore they would flood the building but they _just wouldn't stop_ , and maybe it wouldn't be too bad because she'd already drowned once, and he if went, she could go with him _._

The still of the air was a stark contrast to the room moments before, but the love was still there hanging, _suspended_ \- with him, always.

Hermione crawled fully onto the bed, shifting his legs carefully so she could cradle herself between them. Blaise wrapped his arms around her body pulling her close, and she pretended not to hear the small grunt of pain that escaped his lips on the impact because this was _where she belonged._

He began to speak, slow and soft, but his voice was almost _too low,_ and she closed her eyes to let his words wash over her, seeping into her skin, burrowing itself into her pores, embedding inside her very soul.

"Please just remember, even if I'm not there…" he exhaled, so shallow she'd almost missed it. "I'll always love you."

Blaise Zabini's breath evened out, eventually coming to a stop, and Hermione sobbed, cursing Merlin and Godric and whoever else was listening because she _needed_ him and

 _Did I not lose enough?_

She held his body close until it nearly grew cold, and the Healers had to physically remove her so they could finish their job.

Hermione Granger - _Zabini -_ went home that night, curled up on _his side_ of the bed and inhaled the clean scent that was _him._ She closed her eyes, dreaming of dark, slender fingers skating pirouettes across her skin, and met Blaise in her dreams.

Hermione thought she may sleep forever because if _he was there,_ then _she was, too._

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading!**

" _Ancora ci ameremo per sempre tesoro mio_ "

Italian for:

" _We will still love each other forever, my darling_ "

* * *

 **This author welcomes any and all reviews.**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	3. Aphelion (Number 2)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Aphelion (Number 2)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M (sex & violence)**

 **Genre: Tragedy/Romance**

 **Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr./Professor A. Sinistra**

 **Trigger Warnings: NA**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Aphelion**

* * *

Aphelion (noun): the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is furthest from the sun. The opposite of perihelion.

I.

According to the headlines, Barty Crouch Jr. was an evil man. Deranged. Violent. There were a lot of words the newspapers used to describe him but none were the one's Aurora Sinistra was looking for each time she saw his face staring back at her in black and white: Passionate, brilliant, perhaps even tragic. Because before he was a convicted felon, a Death Eater and the monster of the media circuit he was just Barty, the beautiful boy who had made her world a little less lonely.

They were eleven-years-old when the pair first met. She remembered the day at King's Crossing, her father stood like a calm stoic statue of ancient Greece as he watched his first-born daughter begin her journey to Hogwarts. Her mother fought back the tears as she fussed with Aurora's collar repeatedly. They had only recently made their journey back to Europe after spending decades in Uganda. The decision to send their daughter to Hogwarts instead of Uagadou had mostly been made by Mr. Sinistra, an alumna of the school himself.

"Remember who you are, Aurora," the woman had said to her.

"I am a Sinistra," the daughter replied in the rehearsed poise her parents had instilled in her. The very same words she would tell her reflection over the years to come when other girls would pick on her, when she would feel ostracized and different.

 _She was a Sinistra. She was not meant to be normal. She was not a dim star in the night sky but the fiery sun that lit up the solar system.  
_

Barty didn't have anyone to send him off that day save the small figure of his family's house elf. When he boarded the train, he didn't crowd around the windows as the other children did, waving their final goodbyes eagerly to loved ones. Instead he settled into a compartment alone, unsure of how he was supposed to feel. The anticipation and uncertainty of being so far away from home seemed all at once exciting and terrifying.

"May I sit here?" A quiet voice broke him from his thoughts. The small girl stood in the compartment doorway, waiting for the invitation to sit. Barty nodded shyly. He had never spent much time around girls, least of all a pretty one and felt the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck.

The girl said nothing as she took her seat, looking out the window as trees and hills whooshed by them and the steady clank of the train echoed through the small space. If she noticed him staring, the witch made no indication.

"I'm Barty," he blurted out eventually. The words came tumbling out of his mouth in such a sudden burst that the young girl jumped. Sheepishly, he added. "It's my first time going to Hogwarts."

She smiled and the tug of her lips made Barty's stomach do a flip. "My name is Aurora, it's my first time too."

II.  
From the moment they met on Hogwarts Express, Barty would spend the next several years doing anything to make Aurora smile. Sorted into Slytherin together, they were never far apart in the classroom or walking down the halls. By third-year they could be seen holding hands and although no declarations had ever been officially made, for all intents and purposes, they were considered a couple in the eyes of the student body.

They spoke little to anyone else and between the two they built an entire world where only they existed. A glance, a subtle nod; tiny gestures that could speak volumes in a special language only they knew.

Except after class one day Barty went to meet her outside the Transfiguration classroom. It was part of their routine; each day he escorted her back to the common room before dinner. Only this time she was nowhere to be found. A handful of girls looked at him and snickered as they walked out of the room.

Apprehension washed over him and continued to grow when he couldn't find Aurora anywhere. When she did not appear in the Great Hall for dinner, he excused himself before the first course was even served. It was several hours later he made the harrowing climb up the Astronomy Tower. It was off limits to students, condemned until renovations could be made; he had remembered how distraught Aurora had been when they closed it. That was months ago but having looked everywhere else, Barty knew he couldn't rule it out until he looked for himself.

And like a vision from a dream, there she was. Her silhouette was outlined by the light of the waning moon. It was a cloudless night, the sort of evening he knew Aurora loved more than anything else. She was perfectly still but when he approached Barty saw tear tracks staining her ebony cheeks.

"Rorie," he said with relief. "Where have you been? What _happened_?"

"I am sorry to make you worry," she said quietly as she turned to meet his gaze. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, communicating his concern and tasting her sadness.

"Tell me, love. We don't keep secrets, tell me what happened?" He said coaxingly when she hesitated to say anything more. Aurora closed her eyes and felt comforted by his arms as they enveloped her.

"Susan Montgomery from Gryffindor and her friends kept casting hexes at me whenever the professor wasn't looking," she said and tried to stifle another wave of tears. "They kept saying such horrible things, Barty. I am so ashamed."

Rage swirled in Barty's blood as she retold him the details, he patted her hair and hugged her tighter. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, my sweet."

"Yes," she said fiercely. "Yes I do. I ran away from them, I ran out of that class as fast as I could. A Sinistra never runs away. We never let our enemies see us hurt."

She was shaking now, forcing herself to physically hold back from crying. Barty pulled her away from him just enough so she could see a glint of something dark in his eyes. Even decades into the future and Aurora would never forget the chill that struck her core when Barty said: "Then let's make it the last time it ever happens again."

It was months later when tragedy struck the Gryffindor House and their star athlete Susan Montgomery died when she fell from her broom during practice. The whole school mourned the witch's death but as the headmaster delivered a moving eulogy to the assembled students, Aurora saw the minutia of a smile tugging at Barty's lips.

III.  
They were eighteen and basking in the glow of their imminent graduation. "I can think of a few ways we can celebrate," he said with a devilish grin as he pinned her against the wall. The hallway was empty but not for long as soon students would be trickling back to their quarters for bed.

"Here?"

"I don't see why not!" He retorted back.

Aurora bit her lip and stifled a giddy laugh as he kissed her neck. Barty was the only one who could make her laugh, who could shatter the icy wall she built around herself. He reveled in his power and the privilege to know Aurora in a way no one else could.

She broke away from him and grabbed his hand. "I have an idea."

They made it out the courtyard and down to the lake before Aurora had her hand around the back of his neck, pulling the tall man down to her level for a deep kiss. His hands moved deftly over her blouse, unbuttoning as she did the same until they were both undressed and tangled in each other's embrace in the cool evening grass.

Barty pinned her to the ground and she moaned softly as he thrust himself, his lips tracing a path along her neck eagerly. She moved her hips against his with fierce intensity until it was his turn to moan with pleasure. Quickly his hand crept between her legs, touching her until she was ready to scream.

When they finished they were both naked, panting and out of breath from exhilaration. Nestled close to his body, Aurora laid her head on his chest and watched the starlit sky above. "Tell me again," he whispered and Aurora would list the names of each constellation dotting the inky map of blackness above them.

It felt surreal but also comforting, perfect even. In that moment and those to follow as she drifted off to sleep, nothing else seemed to matter but the comforting rise and fall of Barty's chest and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear. It was the only world she needed.

IV.

After they graduated, Barty and Aurora rented an apartment together and those first eight months were blissful. But then the death tolls came and murmurs of a Dark Lord and his followers plagued the conversations of the wizarding community.

"Be safe," Aurora would whisper into Barty's ear as he left for work each morning.  
He always smiled and promised he had nothing to fear. She never thought to ask him _why_ but by the time she learned the answer to the unasked question it was too late. She had already lost him.

Aurora no longer looked to the night sky for comfort like she had when they were younger, her beautiful stars were marred with billowing green clouds and the face of a hideous skull burned into sky as Death Eaters made their Mark known to the world.

One night Barty came home looking troubled. His hair was matted to his face from sweat, his complexion pale and sickly. She begged Barty for an explanation but the words never came. He recoiled from her touch and screamed that he was fine. The truth swallowed the room and left Aurora with a dull ache in her chest: For the first time in the years together, he was keeping a secret from her. It was then that Aurora felt the first rumble that the world they had created for each other was beginning to crumble.

As the months drew on, she slowly saw the love of her life unravel. He was orbiting farther and farther away from her and even as she fought against gravity, the force that was pulling them apart was stronger than her. Stronger than their love. Even so, she couldn't leave him. To abandon him was to abandon the world they had built. It wasn't until she saw the Mark on his arm as slept that she realized the decision had been for her.

She stared at her reflection and summoned her strength, _I am a Sinistra. I am a Sinistra,_ she told the witch in the mirror. _I am the sun, burning bright in the sky. My light cannot be diminished._ _I will stand alone._

And then she packed her things and disappeared.

V.  
Being back at Hogwarts was disorienting as his past and present collided. Barty walked the hallways and relieved the memories of darting to one class from the next, only this time instead of donning the Slytherin green and silver he was dressed in a professor's robes. Or rather, Alastor Moody was dressed in a professor's robes and he was merely masquerading as the eccentric wizard. A steady brew of Polyjuice made his guise the perfect cover for his mission.

He had been eager to carry out his Master's wishes, getting close to Harry Potter and orchestrating the teenager's place in the Triwizard Tournament. Nothing could deter him from his task except— _her_.

Aurora was still every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Which surprised him. Barty had not let himself think of her for _years._ When he had been thrown into Azkaban, memories of her were the first thing he pushed away. Every time her face crossed his mind the Dementors would surround him, devouring every glimpse into the joy he once had known.

Seated beside the Headmaster, a professor now herself, Aurora's gaze flickered to him but he knew it wasn't _him_ she saw. She saw the marred and weathered face of Alastor Moody but a part of Barty wanted her to see him, wanted her to see the real him. He came close to telling her the truth that year. A part of Barty figured that perhaps this time around if he told her everything she wouldn't leave. That had been his mistake, so many years ago, Barty had broken the one rule to their world: No secrets.

He kept his distance from her until one night, as all the school's population gathered for the Yule Ball. Barty was mesmerized by the way she glided into the ballroom, her emerald gown stitched in silver.

Green had always been Aurora's color, he thought to himself. Transfixed, Barty watched her stand at a distance. Her expression was unreadable and Barty ached to know what was going on inside her beautiful mind. She caught his gaze from across the room and offered a faint cordial smile.

Barty wanted to taste her lips, to remember what they felt like against his own. A tug of the past overrode his sense to blend in, to remain unnoticed. He crossed the ballroom, hobbling on Moody's peg leg. There was a look of surprise across her face as he approached and asked her to dance. She hid her discomfort behind a mask of politeness as she took his out stretched hand.

 _I have missed you terribly,_ Barty wanted to say as they awkwardly moved in some out of step version of a waltz. Instead he said nothing. _I missed the way you smiled only for me, the way your hair always smelled like the wild winds and jasmine in June._ Even as they danced mere inches apart, she felt so far away from him. As the music stopped, he stepped away and gave her an uncoordinated bow.

She curtsied in return.

"Thank you for the dance, Rorie," he said quietly as she turned to walk away. Aurora froze in her step, caught off guard by what he had called her. When she spun to look at him he was already gone.

VI.  
Barty's death wasn't the glorious valiant ending he had imagined it would be. Instead as he was marched to his execution, or at least as much of an execution one could describe from a Dementor's Kiss, he felt the tremble of disappointment wash over him. His Dark Lord was not going to save him; his purpose had been served. But strangely it wasn't the Dark Lord he had even expected to see.

 _Would she be there?_ He wondered hopefully.

Cornelius Fudge and Minerva McGonagall were the only figures save the terrible creature waiting in the field. As he got closer, he could feel the Dementor's familiar presence and felt the hope drain from him. The panic in his chest rose with each hard thump of his heart rattling in his rib cage.

"Any last words Crouch?" Fudge asked him with feigned authority. Barty shot him a maniacal smile and lurched at him in an act that made the Minister flinch instinctively. The Death Eater laughed and Fudge muttered "lunatic" under his breath.

Shoved to his knees, Barty leveled his gaze defiantly upon the Dementor. A flicker of movement caught his eye past the creature. He would never know for sure but in the distance he swore he saw Aurora.

Barty closed his eyes as the Dementor descended upon him, searing away every memory. The last thought that crossed his mind was a starry sky, cold grass and the feel of her hand intertwined in his. He expelled his last breath as Barty Crouch Junior but the echo of his soul screaming reverberated as it was shredded to pieces. When the Dementor parted from him, nothing but a shell of the former wizard remained.

In the distance Aurora felt an inexplicable pang as something in her died too.

* * *

 **Reviews: Those** **that have been soaked in the tears of my enemies. Or just any sort of review will do I suppose.**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	4. If the Fates Allow (Number 3)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: If the Fates Allow (Number 3)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M, Light Smut**

 **Genre: Angst**

 **Pairing: Salazar Slytherin/Hermione Granger**

 **Trigger Warnings: NA**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **If the Fates Allow**

* * *

"Well, look who I ran into," crowed Coincidence. "Please," flirted Fate, "this was meant to be."

JGL

Hermione Granger had been filled with anticipation for a week now. Her magic was pulsating for everyone around her to feel, and for how deserted the Burrow was today, her optimism did not go unnoticed. Ginny Weasley demanded to know who she had met and did not believe for a second she hadn't started seeing anyone new.

Not after your brother stomped on my heart, she thought to herself, cringing at the bitterness she felt. Truthfully, Hermione didn't know why she was feeling so upbeat. "I'm just in a good mood, Gin. That's all!"

She later apparated to her modest flat in Muggle London. It was exhausting going to the Burrow, but she missed the Weasleys. Now that Ron was with Lavender, Hermione's visits were much too few and far between. No use crying over spilled milk, Hermione. He's moved on and so have you, she inwardly scolded.

It had been six years. She had moved on - truly - but she missed the family that so lovingly took her in. While Hermione's inner dialogue ran, she let her magic roam freely in her home. There was nothing more comforting than letting her magic flow, and she had been so careful to keep it reigned in this past week. She didn't need anyone else noticing her magic crackling around her. Suddenly, her magic threw up a wall of defense.

There is someone tampering with my wards.

••••

There was a persistent nudging at his consciousness, like an annoying cat - kneading at him, trying to wake him up. He forcibly shoved the intruder out of his mind. He was a skilled Legilimens and no one was getting past his shields. He drifted back into a slumber, satisfied he would no longer be bothered, but there it was again! "What?" he roared.

"Your line has fallen," the detached voices whispered to him. "Your children are no more."

He was humbled. "I apologize, Moirae, I did not know it was you."

"You are forgiven, young one, so long as you heed our instruction." Their melodic voices caressed him. "You may return to the Living. Your house shall not fall to despair. One more chance, by Fate, we are giving. With a witch of our choosing, shall you conceive an heir."

He was wary of the Fates words, but knew better than to doubt them. "Yes, I accept," he said. He felt his consciousness being pulled as if by portkey, and a strange tingling overtaking his senses.

Suddenly, he found himself, body and all, outside of a building called "The Leaky Cauldron". Well that's nothing to be proud of" he thought, eyeing the building before walking away from it. He soon found himself surrounded by very loud, very fast carriages.

They've made carriages run without horses? What wonderful magic! He resolved to learn the spell as soon as he could, but for now, he had to find the witch Fate had chosen for him.

He extended his magic, feeling for any trace of magical energy. He immediately felt a magical signature that seemed drawn to his own. Morgana, it was powerful! He quickly strode toward the apex of the energy, knowing his witch-to-be was the creator of such beautiful magic. Her magic feels strong - the strongest I've felt in a long time. Strong and pure, just like myself. The Fates are never wrong, he thought with pride.

He had found her flat and reached his magic out to feel for wards. He was surprised at the strength and complexity of the warding magic surrounding her door. He reached out again, looking for a break or weak spot when her felt magic sliding over his like a warm bath. As quickly as it came, it retreated and threw up a block so hard that he was thrown backward. His head hit the wall with a sickening thud, and he taste copper and rust, blood, in his mouth before the blackness took over.

•••

Hermione was pacing the floor in front of the still unconscious intruder. She contemplated a quick peek into his mind before mentally scolding herself. Merlin, Hermione. You can't just rummage around in an unconscious man's mind!

She stalked back and forth, gathering all the information she could by the man's appearance. "Tall. Dark hair. Is that a ribbon holding it back? Well dressed - he comes from money. Plain white shirt, obviously well made. Black trousers, tailored to him. Pureblood, probably. Merlin, he looks fit! I wonder what colour his eyes are?" She whirled back toward him when she heard a small groan.

"Who are you!" She demanded, wand pointed under his chin. He opened his eyes and blinked slowly at her.

"I'm looking for the Master of the house, girl. Fetch him for me," the man said while trying, and failing, to stand.

Hermione's magic visibly sparked around her. "Girl? Girl?" she spat. "This girl put a permanent sticking charm on that chair. This girl put you flat on your arse with occlumency shields. This girl is the brightest witch of her age!"

He was taken aback by her rage. Surely, a nice witch as herself would know to take better care of a guest. Why hadn't the Master of the house come to greet him? The manners in this time were simply atrocious. He started to speak again when he was interrupted. "I am the Master of this house," Hermione stated. "And what is your business here?" "Forgive me, Mistress Granger. I have been sent by the Moirae to mate with a witch whose magic calls to me - who's magic they have marked for mine."

"Fate? Fate sent you? They just think I can't find someone myself? They have to send some guy to shag me?" Hermione began to pace again. She turned sharply back to him. "Prove it."

He partially opened his mind to her and allowed her to view his memories. After feeling her intense and focused magic wade through his thoughts he gently closed his mind again.

"Merlin's beard, you're Salazar Slytherin? What kind of cruel joke is this?" Seeing the bewildered look on the Slytherin's face, she quickly yanked up her sleeve and held her arm in front of his face. "I suppose you want to kill the mudblood too?" She fumed, wondering if the Fates had sent him back to kill her.

"Is that a thing they do in this time?" He spoke. Salazar was confused about her strange tattoo, but he was over 1000 years old. He didn't know what wizards were doing in this day. In his time, Morgana, witches were burning themselves at the stake. He was not unaccustomed to tattoos in his time, but generally they were reserved for men.

"Mistress Granger, I do not wish you any harm. As you can see, I'm not a Goblin or Troll, but a wizard. The blood of the Earth is in my veins as well."

"Wha-what?"

"I am a wizard, or mud-blooded as your arm so clearly states" he explained. He was beginning to suspect she was a tad simple.

"What? No. I'm muggle born. My blood is dirty, according to you."

"I have said nothing of the sort, Mistress Granger!"

"Hermione", she breathed out, flustered. This was Salazar Slytherin, the founder of the most prejudiced house at Hogwarts. Mister blood supremacist himself, and he just called himself a mudblood. "You can call me Hermione."

"My friends called me Sal," he offered to her as well. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"You don't really look like a Sal," she said primly as her eyes roved his body once more.

Merlin, he was fit!

Thank you Hermione. Salazar's face was smug. You are quite lovely yourself.

Hermione's face flamed red. "Get. Out. Of. My. Head," she seethed as she stormed off into the inner depths of flat. Salazar did an intricate incantation and smoothly stood up from his chair to follow Hermione. He sensed her magic trailing behind her like a sweet cloud of perfume. He found her sitting on the edge of a bed, face buried in her hands. Her hair was wild around her. Salazar decided he quite liked her unruly hair. It was untamed and beautiful, like her magic.

Hermione could sense him standing in front of her. She took a deep breath, ready to yell at him again when she caught his scent. It was better than the strongest Amortentia, and she inhaled once more as the smells clouded her mind. It was like laying in a freshly mowed field while reading an old book, spearmint toothpaste and something spicy, like men's shampoo. It was intoxicating. Salazar seemed to be caught in the same trance as he murmured "parchment and vanilla."

Their eyes locked as he sank to his knees before her. She faintly nodded as he reached for her, as if he was caught in a spell, their lips barely brushing. Hermione pulled him deeper into the kiss while his scent enveloped her. She felt a sweet, slow burn settle in her stomach as they slowly moved toward the top of her bed.

Salazar suddenly stopped - his eyes wild - drinking in Hermione's flushed face and beautifully swollen lips. "You are a goddess," he said to her, his voice low. Hermione blushed as Salazar slowly removed his shirt, his stormy blue eyes never breaking contact with hers.

"A goddess worthy of worship," he whispered reverently as he slowly lifted the hem of her dress, revealing her thighs. Salazar's breath caught in his throat. "So beautiful," he breathed onto her bare skin. Hermione shivered with anticipation as she felt slow kisses traveling up her thighs.

She was going to combust. She was sure of it. Fervent whispers "so good" begging "please don't stop," punctuated with a loud "Yes!" Her fingers and toes curling into her previously well-made bed. Hermione finally came undone, her magic crackling around her, with Salazar finishing close behind her. He leaned down to kiss her once more. His mouth sweet and tasted of her, Hermione realized, blushing. Their bodies gleaming in the darkness as sweat beads slowly evaporated from their skin.

Hermione cast a quick scourgify on them both as they lay exhausted in her bed. "Merlin! Did you see the-"

"Actual fireworks? Yes. Beautiful " Salazar grinned at her. "And I knew Merlin, not a very impressive wizard really. I'm much better. There's a reason they say Merlin's beard." He arched an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she realized what he was insinuating. "You foul old man!" She teased him. The Moirae knew what they were doing when they sent him to me. Hermione thought as her eyelids grew heavy. Before sleep finally claimed her she snuggled into the crook of Salazar's arm feeling more complete than she ever had.

Hermione woke, startled. Her bed was empty and judging by the cool sheets, had been for a while. She ran out of her room and immediately ran into Salazar who was now wearing a full English. "I was trying to bring you breakfast in bed," he explained while looking down at the food at his feet. "Although, I'm sure you could find something else to eat." His heated gaze traveled back up her body.

Hermione loved the impish smile on his face. "To the shower with you! And maybe I'll join." She grinned back at him as he carefully made his way to the bathroom. She heard the water start and faint singing as she quickly cleaned up the mess outside her door. Salazar Slytherin is singing in my shower right now. She shook her head and hurried to join him, eager for a repeat performance of the night before.

Two showers later they were finally clean.

•••

Hermione was joyous. It had been the best month of her life. "I could live every day like this," she exclaimed happily. She cast her magic toward Salazar so he could feel her elation but quickly drew it back upon seeing the frown on his face.

"Your magic feels different," he explained. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He quickly grabbed his wand and pointed it at her belly. A faint glow around her lower abdomen confirmed his suspicions. "I'm going to be a father?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "I'm going to be a father!" He spun Hermione around, elated. "I think I'm going to be sick," he quickly added. Salazar quickly put his beloved down and rushed to the bathroom.

Hermione did another incantation and saw the golden glow turn to blue. A boy! She was having a boy! She moved to the bathroom when she heard quiet voices.

Our prophesy has been fulfilled. The child of Slytherin, so was willed. Within your belly, his heir grows. But this son, he shall not know.

All former happiness quickly drained out of her. No. Hermione's heart was racing. No. No. No. She threw open the bathroom door, praying to find him behind it. She crumpled to her knees, sobbing into the empty bathroom, her wails echoing off the stark white tile.

She was alone.

* * *

 **Reviews: Constructive Criticism**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	5. Unexpected Lancelot (Number 4)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Unexpected Lancelot (Number 4)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst/General**

 **Pairing: Ron Weasley/Pansy Parkinson**

 **Trigger Warnings: Language/Smut**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Unexpected Lancelot**

* * *

Pansy sat in the small room on the fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital. She had been having tea with her mother and Narcissa Malfoy earlier that afternoon when she had collapsed after a walk around the gardens, something that was highly unusual for her since she held all the stamina of the quidditch player she was. The two elder ladies had demanded she be seen at once, and though Pansy was in her twenties and more than capable of looking after herself, she couldn't deny that she had been feeling slightly off recently. So she took the floo to St Mungo's and now here she was, an hour later and shaking like a leaf because some idiot in healer robes had just told her she was pregnant. Pregnant. As if!

Pansy stared at the healer, Kevin she noted was his name and silently made the connection to his obvious muggle heritage before telling him he was wrong. Because Pansy Parkinson couldn't be pregnant. Not on Merlin's grave.

But, what if...she had missed a period, and she had been feeling a bit odd for the past few weeks, but she put those down to stress. She couldn't be pregnant; she wasn't married, not even close. She didn't have a boyfriend, and the one man she was having sex with always cast a charm. Except...there was that one night where they were both drunk. Pansy couldn't really remember much besides waking up naked the next morning. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, drunk sex was something they participated in often, and they always seemed to remember in the past. They were safe. She _thought_ they were safe.

"We can cast the charm here if you would like so you can see the results for yourself, but I can assure you Miss Parkinson, you are most definitely pregnant, and about eight weeks by our calculations."

Pansy nodded, eager to prove the stupid muggle-born healer wrong even though she knew, deep down, that he was right.

When the charm was cast and a golden light filled the room, silent tears fell down her face because as much as she knew she was pregnant, she also knew she was alone; the last thing a girl of her status needed was an unexpected out of wedlock pregnancy without a man around. She would be fed to the wolves just for the implication. Merlin, she was positively screwed.

Pansy went home that evening to the flat she shared with best friend Daphne. The girls had 'rebelled' against pureblood custom and had moved out of their respective family homes as soon as they graduated from Hogwarts. They even had jobs! Part-time jobs but jobs nonetheless. Pansy was a backup Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. She had been offered a full time position on numerous occasions but had always let it go for fear of sending her mother into an early grave. Part-time quidditch was bad enough, but Merlin, everyone knew how rough a full-time position on the team would be and her mother was worried that a girl as pure as herself, with cheekbones and lips like hers, could end up worse for wear. So she settled for part-time because, frankly, she probably played just as many games as she missed.

For the next fortnight the brunette witch kept her news to herself. She set up a silencing charm so her bouts of morning sickness weren't heard and brewed a potion that enabled her to eat at least _something_ and keep it down, but when the Harpies floo'd her one day to fill a spot on the team, she obliged without thinking. She later cried herself to sleep over her stupidity. Bludgers and pregnancy didn't mix, and she had taken a hard one to her left side causing _at_ _least_ bruised ribs. The team healer had managed to fix them, but it was obvious from the look Pansy received that she knew of the pregnancy. After making sure nobody was around to hear, Pansy demanded the healer check the baby was fine and later resigned for her dream job.

Since her diagnosis she hadn't once met up with the father of her child, too afraid of the what if's if she did. Too afraid of rejection from the one man she sought acceptance.

Pansy dragged herself out of bed one day a few weeks later though only because she was sick of Daphne's incessant moaning. She trudged up to the breakfast bar in their open kitchen-living space and poured herself a cup of coffee. She didn't care if she wasn't supposed to drink the stuff. Some days you couldn't function without coffee, and today was one of them. As Daphne fiddled around with the mail, Pansy picked up the paper that had been thrown to one side.

'GOLDEN TRIO BACK AGAIN' Pansy groaned as she skimmed the piece about the Ministry ball and flipped the pages to see a picture of Hermione and Draco dancing and smiling and waving at the cameras. Even though the world had long ago accepted the pair as a couple, they were still a spectacle to dear old Rita Skeeter to get her mitts on. She turned the page to see a newly wedded Harry and Ginny Potter dressed to the nines in what could only be new robes. Pansy, being a team mate of the Weasley witch, had been invited to the couples wedding the month before but unable, and unwilling, to chance a wedding at the Weasel coop, she had turned the invitation down, even if it was the biggest society event of the century.

As she turned the page again she was met with the laughing, and smiling, image of Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. Lavender-Fucking-Brown. After everything the bitch had done to the man back in Hogwarts he was _dancing_ with her. In the paper. Pansy screwed the edges of the Prophet up in her hands as Daphne eyed her curiously.

The two friends were close, _really_ close, but Pansy had never told Daphne all about how she had started sleeping with the youngest Weasley son back in sixth year, or how they had continued to fuck pretty much every week since.

"Everything okay Pans?" Daphne asked as she watched, knowingly, as her friend's face filled with hurt and anger. She knew it wasn't okay. She knew Pansy was in love with Ronald Weasley and had been for years. Merlin, she knew Pansy was _pregnant_ , but if she wanted to pretend she wasn't for a while longer then Daphne could go along with it.

"They look so happy it makes me sick." She tried to joke with a halfhearted laugh.

Pansy went back to her room not long after that and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning a tiny chirpy owl arrived with a letter addressed to Pansy. She recognised the script immediately and set the thing to light, feeling only slightly better with herself though it didn't last long.

oOoOoOo

Pansy and Daphne were out in Hogsmeade one day when Pansy's bladder all of a sudden felt like it was about to burst. Daphne rushed her friend into the Three Broomsticks to relive herself. It had been another week since the article about the Ministry ball had been released, and Daphne was starting to lose her wits over the whole situation.

As Pansy relieved herself in the bathroom, Daphne went to find them a table.

"Where is she?" A voice almost spat out behind her as she sat. Daphne turned to see a very put out looking Ronald Weasley who looked to be drowning his sorrows.

"Who?" Daphne asked feigning interest.

"Don't act like you don't know."

"Fine. She's in the bathroom," Daphne answered with a sigh as she watched the ginger haired man down the last of his drink and head in the direction of the ladies' toilets.

Pansy was just walking out of the door of the ladies' bathroom when she bumped into him. The one man she didn't want to see. The one man she so desperately _needed_ to see. The man who sent butterflies to her stomach just from looking at her the way he did. She almost fell over in shock, but he reached out and grabbed her before she hit the floor and, with the pub as packed as it was, they ended up being squashed up against a wall.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, his arm wrapped around her protectively.

"Wh-what? Yes, of course I'm fine."

"Really? You don't look fine." He replied, and she was surprised that the concern she saw cross his face was genuine.

"Well I am."

"I've been waiting for you."

"Why?"

"It's Saturday, Pans." He said as though that made it obvious.

"Don't-don't call me that," She almost begged. "And in case you hadn't noticed, since I haven't been here the last five weeks, I'm not interested anymore," she said this time with more confidence.

"I've noticed, I come every week-"

"You're an idiot."

"What did I do Pans? Just tell me. I know I've upset you but let me fix it."

"You can't! It's too late for that." Pansy answered as she looked away as the image of a laughing and smiling Lavender Brown played in her mind, again.

Ron moved one of his hands from where it was on her side and, gripping her slightly more firmly with the other, he tilted her chin with his fingers so she had no choice but to look at him. He noted the tears that were building and felt a knot form in his stomach; he felt sick. Whatever he had done was bad enough to make Pansy Parkinson so upset she was verging on tears. "Look at me Love," he whispered, "Please."

Pansy obliged but only because he left her no choice and just as her dark eyes met his bright blue ones, he kissed her. It was their first kiss in nearly two months, and she couldn't help but kiss him back.

Ron moved his hand to cup her face as their lips met, and when she parted hers instinctively just as she always did, he took that as a sign and carried on. He sucked her lower lip gently between his own before slipping his tongue in her mouth, and they fought the same battle of dominance they often would.

The kiss was as if a volcano erupted inside of her. It touched her everywhere fast, flowed through her magic and veins, and she could feel it in her toes as they curled up without warning. When the kiss that had started out tender and full of hope turned into something hot and passionate, heat pooled in the pit of her stomach as she felt his growing hardness pressed against her thigh. His lips found the column of her neck, and she barley cast a glance at the rest of the pub before walking backwards, dragging him with her as they entered the bathroom.

Ron didn't notice what was going on around him or that he was still in public. He hadn't seen Pansy in nearly two months, and he missed her. _Needed_ her. As Pansy ordered a couple of young girls out and raised her wand to ward the door, Ron continued down to her collar bone, kissing his way to whatever exposed skin he could find. He gripped her waist tighter and slammed her hard against the wall. The moan that escaped the witch was almost inaudible as she wrapped her legs around his waist trying to create friction that would ease the almost painful need she had for him. He held her up with barely any effort as his mouth claimed hers again. Hard, fast, rough. She was breathless and heady, but she carried on as if it was their last kiss because it was. It had to be.

Just as the thought crossed her mind the tear that had been threatening for the last few minutes finally fell down her cheek and before she could play it off, Ron was already tenderly wiping it away with his thumb and his lips slowed their ministrations. He kissed her soft. He kissed her slow. He kissed her so full of love that she almost believed it was true. When it was over, he kissed first her nose then her head and finally rested his forehead on hers, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry Pans, whatever I did, I'm sorry Love," he whispered into her hair.

Pansy tightened her grip on him for just a second and, as she gathered up the courage, something she had never really had a hard time with in the past, she turned her head away from him, breathed in his scent just one last time and said "Why? Did she cheat on you already? You need me back so quickly? All I'm good for is a quick fuck isn't it? I've had enough Weasley. Go and find someone else to screw around with because I'm done being second best." Her voice grew louder, her tone harsher as she shouted at him, and Ron stood stock still having absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

Tears poured down her face but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her so upset. She turned and disapparated without waiting for Daphne, who was already getting through the wards.

"What just happened?" He asked in disbelief as he stared at the spot she had been standing in just seconds before.

"You need to sort this mess out."

Ron turned to see Daphne Greengrass staring at him with what he thought was pity.

"How? I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done. And it's not...she's not that to me...she's-" Ron struggled with himself to say exactly what she was because honestly, he didn't even know himself.

"I know," Daphne sighed and started to rummage through her bag. "Look I better go after her but here," she said thrusting a folded up piece of parchment in his hands. "Sort it out. Trust me, the sooner this is fixed, the better. If she eats anymore ice cream...just sort it!" Daphne rolled her eyes in annoyance as she followed Pansy's lead and disapparated after her best friend.

oOoOoOo

"Bloody Fuck!" he cursed loudly, his hands twisting into fists automatically as he stared at a picture of him and Lavender dancing at the Ministry Ball.

He hadn't wanted to dance with his cheating ex-girlfriend. He didn't even want to look at her let alone be close enough to dance, but Lavender Brown had become a prominent figure in fighting for Werewolf rights since the end of the war and for one political reason or another, they had been at the same ball, which was fair enough. He couldn't exactly ask the Minister to un-invite the witch because she was easy and liked shagging Slytherin's in broom closets. Especially since said incident had happened nearly a decade ago back in sixth year. No, he had pulled on a fake smile and got on with the boring ball he had been roped by his friends into going to. He'd not seen Pansy in two weeks by that point and was desperately missing her. He'd moped so much that Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Draco had coerced him into going. When they had played the wizarding waltz he was so drunk on the offered firewhiskey that he had actually joined in when an old lady asked him for a dance. He didn't realise it was a changing partners type of waltz until it was too late and the sweet old lady was replaced by none other than Lavender bloody Brown. He wore a fake smile as she tried to engage him in conversation. She flirted openly and freely, but he ignored her advances and, as soon as he was able, he passed her off to the nearest wizard he could find and exited the dance floor for another drink and to wash his hands because just the thought that he had touched her made him feel violated.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

oOoOoOo

Ron was too pissed off at himself, the Prophet, and Rita bloody Skeeter to apparate home safely. So instead he walked to Grimmauld Place, giving no fucks at all that his sister and best friend had not long ago gotten married and probably wanted to spend some time together, alone.

Thankfully when he knocked on the door to the ancient house of Black, now Potter, for the first time in forever in all the years he had been going there, Harry and Ginny knew something was off right away and dragged him inside without complaint.

"What's happened?" Ginny asked Harry in a hushed voice.

"How the bloody hell should I know? I've been with you all day." Harry answered with a roll of his eyes as they walked into the kitchen and used his wand to sort out some tea.

Ron looked as white as a sheet. His hands were still in fists, and there was something caught between his fingers. Ginny managed to free the offending parchment from his grip and smoothed it out before skimming the article. It was about her and Harry, and she couldn't find anything amiss.

"The other side," Ron muttered reluctantly as Harry set a sober up potion and cup of tea in front of him.

Ginny turned the paper over and was met with a picture of Ron and Lavender. The Potter's didn't buy the Prophet anymore; it wasn't a reliable source of information, so they generally stuck to the Quibbler. Sure there were a few dotty articles here and there, but if you were smart enough you could find the real news in the Lovegood's paper while the Prophet was paid off by the government and Wizengamot to appear exactly as they wanted it too.

"Urgh," Ginny grimaced as Harry looked over her shoulder. "You danced with her? After what that slag did to you back in Hogwarts?"

"Wasn't left with much choice. Stupid blasted waltz."

"I hope you had a wash afterwards. Merlin knows where she's been."

"I need to tell you somethingm," Ron said as he stared down into the mug he was holding and wishing so desperately it was something much stronger.

"About what?"

"Me…"

"And...?"

Ron took a long drink from the tea and said, "And Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh." Ginny said, a little deflated.

"Oh?" He asked as he looked between his sister and best friend. "You know?"

"Well, to be fair _everyone_ knows. You're not exactly secretive about her. You took her to the beach near Shell Cottage Merlin knows how many times. Bill and Fleur saw you besides, we knew before that anyway. Haven't you been shagging her since you had to redo seventh year?"

"Sixth year," Ron corrected. " We've been...since sixth year. She was there when Lavender...she was with me when we caught her in the boom closet, and well, ever since...-"

"You've been shagging her since sixth year? Bloody hell Ron!" Ginny cried.

"What does it matter anyway? She hates me. She saw the paper and went mental. Stopped coming to meet up with me and everything. I don't know what to do. I hate Lavender! She knows I do."

"What does it matter? Oh for Circe's sake Ron! You've been shagging her every chance you could for nearly a decade without introducing her to your family or friends, without her being your girlfriend and every week she was there, and what do you do? Get snapped by Rita Skeeter dancing with your cheating ex. You seriously don't know a thing about witches do you? She doesn't hate you. Merlin, I can't believe I'm having to spell this out for you - she loves you, you idiot. She loves you, and you've been treating her like a fuck buddy this whole time."

Ron paled as Ginny laid into him, not because he was scared about her implications - though he was - but because he desperately wanted them to be true. He'd first realised he loved Pansy back in seventh year, but the witch had been determined to prove her mother wrong and be independent for a while. When she had taken a part-time job as a quidditch player he had worried, not because she wasn't good but because she was brilliant, and brilliant players were generally knocked out first. He went to every game she played and was able to cheer for her without anyone knowing since it was his sister's team. He hadn't told her he loved her because once Posy Parkinson started talking to her daughter about settling down Pansy would use their time to bitch about her mother and tell him exactly how that was the "last thing she needed" and how "love was just so unpractical" and that she "didn't have room for it in her life." So he kept his mouth shut. When the war was over and she was safe, they carried on their secret meetings; after graduation they would meet once a week. In all the years they had been doing it neither of them had used the 'L' word. Hell, neither of them had even said they explicitly _liked_ one another let alone love. They pretended it was a mutual beneficial agreement though neither of them ever dated anyone else. Truth was he was terrified. Terrified of losing Pansy. Terrified of them never being anything more than what they were. Terrified of never being able to tell her how he really felt.

"Can you help me? I need her back Gin. I'm going mad without her."

Ginny sighed helplessly before she agreed. "I'm going to floo 'Mione and Draco. I think we need all the help we can get here."

oOoOoOo

Daphne didn't apparate home, she knew Pansy well enough to know she wouldn't be there. Instead she apparated to the one place she knew the witch would be, the beach. Well, what barely passed for a beach anyway. It was a wizarding beach that had the odd cottage here and there along the coast and was totally safe from muggles. It was small and quiet, a place for relaxation.

"How did you find me?" Pansy asked as her best friend slipped her shoes off and walked up behind her.

"Pansy, we've been best friends since we were babies. You think I don't know the one place you would go after having an argument with the man you love?"

"I don't-" Pansy tried to defend weakly.

"Save it."

"How long have you known?"

"About you and Weasley or about you being pregnant?"

Pansy sucked in a breath. It was the first time since the healer had said the word that she had actually heard it.

"You thought I didn't know," Daphne noted. "We live together Pans, it wasn't hard."

The pair stood staring out at the sea, watching as the tide rose higher and higher while Pansy cried silent tears.

"You need to talk to him, tell him everything. You can't carry on like this."

"I know."

oOoOoOo

Two hours later, the two witches and three wizards were sat around the Potter's kitchen drinking tea and discussing how to win Pansy back for Ron. Even Draco who also, it turned out, knew of the pairs long standing arrangement with each other. Though he did express just how much the thought of his second favourite Weasley and his friend 'going at it like rabbits' made him gag. A quick elbow to the ribs from his pregnant wife shut him up and before long they were hatting a plan to win the witch back.

The plan was, as devised by everyone in attendance but himself since apparently his opinions on the issue didn't matter due to how he had handled the situation so far, to lure the witch using a fake gala she had conveniently forgotten about. Draco was going to apparate her to a fancy restaurant on the outskirts of a small Scottish town just below Hogsmeade. It wasn't a cheap restaurant; It was posh and they played classical wizarding waltzes in the background, but it wasn't cheap.

Ron floo'd back to Shell Cottage once the rest of the them had decided the plan was good enough though he barely knew himself what it was. He was told where to be and when. What to wear and to bring a bunch of pansies with him. Because, you know, her name is Pansy and they thought it was cute or some other such nonsense.

He had bought the cottage from his elder brother and sister-in-law a few years earlier when the pair were pregnant with their second child and decided that they needed more room. The beach had always been a place he went to get away from life. He had even taken Pansy there a few times though they had never gone back to his place. As far as he knew she had no idea he lived where he did. It was unplottable. It had to be.

oOoOoOo

When he woke the next day with a clearer mind and the realisation that no way in hell would the plan work, Ron set to work at fixing it. If this was going to be his one and only shot at getting her to listen, to let him explain and give him another chance, a real chance, then he needed to pull out all the stops. That way she couldn't say he hadn't tried, and besides, as far as he was concerned she deserved it. He had never once spoiled the witch before. All her talk of independence and not needing to be married or how stupid love was really put him off, and to be quite honest, he was too scared of the rejection if he even tried.

Tonight though he didn't care. This was his last chance, and regardless of how terrified he was, tonight he was putting his heart in her hands and let her do the deciding for once. Tonight he would tell her how he really felt. Something he couldn't do in a restaurant that just wasn't right for them. In clothes that made them feel like they were pretending to be someone else and with flowers that were every kind of wrong. No, he would do things right and that meant pyjamas instead of robes, dodgy home cooking by candle-light with the wizarding wireless playing in the background. Dancing like idiots to said wireless. Honeydukes' finest chocolate covered caramels because they were her favourite and roses, not pansies because she hated pansies and roses had always been her favourite flowers.

Ron left for work early that morning feeling a mixture of hope and anxiety over the evenings events.

oOoOoOo

Pansy was eating ice cream straight from the tub for breakfast when an owl arrived from Draco. She recognised the script immediately, and even if she hadn't, the Malfoy wax seal on the back was a dead giveaway. She read the note a couple of times before thinking 'fuck it why not?' and penned him a letter back with the waiting owl.

Draco had asked her to be his date for the evening. His pregnant wife was having to take it easy for the next few days and couldn't go, and he needed to turn up with a date; politics.

The rest of the day was spent with Daphne as the pair went shopping for the perfect dress and shoes, went to a nail bar and got their hair done.

The pair were in Madam Malkin's getting measured for robes when the elderly seams-witch had noted Pansy's pregnancy. It turned out buying robes was going to be a little more difficult than she had originally thought it would. She had barely paid much attention to her stomach the last few weeks as she was pretending the pregnancy wasn't really happening and putting it to the back of her mind while trying to continue on as normal. She stopped wearing her tight fitting clothes and opted for baggy jumpers, thankful that it was nearly winter and she could get away with it. Besides, the baby was taking up all her warmth, and she needed the extra layers. She hadn't looked at how much her body had changed until that afternoon when she stood in front of the mirror and saw the small but very obvious roundness popping out from behind her robes. "Oh, fuck." she whispered before adding, "Just go up a size for now." hoping she could get away with it.

Draco floo'd to the apartment the pair shared later that evening. He told Pansy she looked good, as was expected of man of his birth and upbringing, and offered her his arm so they could apparate away.

oOoOoOo

Ron stood outside the restaurant, he had already cancelled the reservation that had been made on his behalf, and the chicken was waiting at home with a dodgy warming spell placed on it since he never actually ever had to use one before since he usually went to his mothers or ate takeaways on his way home from work. He stood awkwardly wearing a tuxedo and robes set that he usually wore to the fancier balls and held a bouquet of red roses as he waited anxiously for the witch and the ferret to arrive.

He'd gotten there early in his haste and ended up waiting fifteen minutes before the pair appeared out of thin air, by which point he was already telling himself how much of a bad idea it was and how she wasn't going to come or all the other ways things could go spectacularly wrong.

"Look, don't pitch a fit okay?" Draco started.

"What the...where are we?" Pansy asked a she looked at the restaurant in front of them, still not seeing the redhead stood close by.

"We're not going to a gala. You're sorting this mess out." He said with a look over Pansy's shoulder as he gave Ron the signal to move out of the shadows and appear behind her. "Both of you."

Pansy spun on her heels confused for just a second before she caught on. She had been tricked. She had fallen hook, line, and sinker, Damn it!

But when she saw him, even though she was mentally cursing herself, she still couldn't help the familiar butterflies that fluttered in her stomach or the way she bit the corner of her bottom lip from seeing him dressed so...smart. So crisp and elegant. Merlin he was bloody gorgeous in suit robes. She'd always known it but had barely ever had the chance to see it for herself except at their secret rendezvous just before graduation where she torn the damn things off of him within two minutes. It had been nearly ten years since then and the sight was only made worse with age. He looked better; he had filled out from his years as an Auror and all the training he had to endure to keep fit. He had muscles that were so obvious under the robes that Pansy wondered how he even fit into them in the first place. He even wore black tie. A. Black. Tie. The pants were as snug as they could be possible be, fitting just perfectly in all the right places. His thigh muscles were prominent that it made her wonder what his arse looked like from the back, and before she knew it, heat pooled in the pit of her stomach as she silently prayed to Merlin he would turn around just so she could get a quick glimpse. "Fuck," she whispered. She was positively done for because no matter what she already knew, that whatever he was about to ask her, she would agree to.

"Just...I can't believe I'm saying this, but give the Weasel a chance Pans. Just one chance." Draco said as he mistook her curse of appreciation of the male form for something else entirely. Draco gave her a quick kiss on the temple before disapparating away though she barely noticed. She hadn't taken her eyes off Ron the whole time.

He stepped closer, his eyes roaming her form taking in her beauty. She really was mesmerising. She stood there in deep scarlet robes that hung from her hips. The fabric, crushed velvet, brushed against her toes where he feet sat in heels that he had no idea how anyone could walk in despite whatever charm witches came up it. From where he stood he gathered the dress was backless, and he was desperate to see how the soft velvety material fell against the curve of her arse. The neckline was low, complete with a fancy golden trim. She didn't wear anything around her neck though, and he mentally kicked himself for not having thought of that himself. She deserved to wear the biggest jewel he could afford. A ruby, or even amber, would have complimented the look perfectly.

"You look-" He started as he stared at her. Her hair was charmed in some sort of elegant up do, but one piece kept falling in her face. He stepped closer again so he could move it and tucked it behind her ear.

Pansy's breath caught as he touched her despite only seeing him the day before and the kiss, Merlin the kiss she thought. She still missed him, still felt a need for him she had never felt for anyone before. It scared her something rotten.

"-Beautiful." He finished as his hand fell limply to the side, and she pouted at the loss of contact.

Why was she so needy for him when she was so angry? Why couldn't she get ahold of her emotions and just fix herself on one? Why did he turn her into a puddle of goo?

"Roses?" She asked after a few seconds.

"Well, everyone else suggested pansies, but I know how much you hate them." He answered as he passed her the bouquet.

"Roses are my favourite."

"I know."

The pair stood awkwardly after that, Pansy inhaled the scent of the beautiful red flowers before saying "They're red."

"I know."

"I suppose there is no rose that represents fuck buddies, is there?" She asked wryly.

"Pans" He pleaded "don't-don't do this. Just give me one date. It's all I ask. Give me one chance, and I'll explain everything. I promise."

"One date? Then what?"

"That's up to you love," he answered before he pleaded with her "Please." His voice was rough and broken; she caved just like she knew she would.

"Okay," she whispered with a small smile and nod. "Shall we go in then?"

"Here?" He asked. "Godric no! If I only get one chance I'm doing this properly. You deserve for me to put some bloody effort in and paying someone to cook for us isn't that."

She smiled for real then. "You cooked? For me?"

oOoOoOo

Despite his inner war with himself not to because she just looked too good, Ron offered the witch a pair of his pyjamas, and she readily accepted before Ron lead her out through the back door of the cottage to what he called the garden but was essentially his own little private piece of the beach with beautiful views of the ocean. There were floating candles and a table dressed in the finest china he owned. They ate the chicken and rice he had made while Pansy made all the right noises about his cooking, and he was glad for her obvious over exaggeration. When they finished, he banished dishes back inside and pulled Pansy up to dance even when she tried to bat him away with her hand. He used a charm to change the song to something slower, and she only half protested. He'd tried to serve some elf wine at dinner, something that he had gone out of his way to buy, making sure it complimented the dish well but the witch had declined saying she wasn't in the mood for alcoholic drinks and praying to Salazar that he didn't prod further. He didn't mind, he just grabbed the pumpkin juice out and poured them each a glass of that instead.

After their dancing Ron levitated the chocolates out to them and wrapped Pansy up in his Auror robes when the chill threatened, and the pair sat huddled on a swing as they ate the caramels and watched the waves rise. He could have cast a warming charm but in all honesty he much prefered the closness she was all too willing to offer.

All in all, it had been the perfect night; much better than some fancyshmancy dinner in a stuck up restaurant where they had to pretend they were someone they weren't.

They had sat on the swing long enough for Ron to realise Pansy had fallen asleep, the lull of the ocean sounds pulling her away. Instead of waking the sleeping witch, he picked her up bridal style and took her into his room. Despite the cottage having three bedrooms, he had never needed a use for a spare bed before and was left with no choice but to put her in his own bed. He gently lay the witch down, unable to stop marveling at just how perfect, how peaceful she looked in her sleep and took away the robes that surrounded her before pulling the blankets up. It was October, and it could get cold in the cottage since the sea was so close. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before moving to a nearby cupboard to find himself a blanket with the intentions of sleeping on the couch, not that the pair had never shared a bed before. On the contrary, they had slept beside one another more times than he could count but something about doing it this night without invitation felt almost intrusive.

Just as he turned to go, he felt a hand on his arm "Stay…" Pansy mumbled sleepily.

"Get some sleep, Love. I'll just be on the couch"

"Please stay."

He only gave in because she sounded much more alert and thought, no hoped, he wouldn't get his arse handed to him for it the next morning.

"You're freezing!"

"Warm me up."

Ron moved closer as Pansy huddled next to him for warmth. She had woken up now, and they were nose to nose. Suddenly Ron couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I love you," he whispered into the darkness.

He watched her freeze, gulp with anxiety, and then he kissed her hoping to convey his feelings and ease her tensions.

"I love you too," she finally replied when they broke apart. "But there's something else; I'm pregnant"

It was his turn to freeze then.

"You're going to be a daddy," Pansy whispered.

"Really?"

She nodded, a grin forming.

"Merlin witch, I fucking love you!" and before she knew it his lips were crashing against hers, claiming her as his own, and they were tearing at each other's clothes, desperate to feel, touch, imprint themselves on each other.

As Ron pulled up the shirt she was wearing, one of his own that was far too big against her frame, his fingers brushed softly against the small bump that had formed where her flat stomach used to be. He trailed his hands over the skin there, memorising the new information as much as he could before he placed a single kiss just below her belly button and moved down to pull away her bottoms.

It wasn't long until they were both naked, and he was entering her hot, wet core slowly, and she was panting beneath him begging him to just move.

But he wouldn't, he couldn't. He had had sex with the witch countless times and not once had he made love to her like she deserved, like he wanted to. So here he was, hovering above her, kissing her neck and collar bone as he held himself up with one hand and lay the other possessively against her bump. He pushed himself in just slightly, driving her crazy with just the tip before he pulled out again, and she pouted at the loss. He kissed her and did it again before she was snapping her hips up at him and leveled him with a stare that said 'I dare you'. He took the warning as it was meant and pushed himself in fully, stopping only to feel her completely before he moved in and out at an agonisingly slow pace.

Pansy wrapped her legs around him as they moved in synch, slowly but deliberately.

It wasn't long until the familiar tug of orgasm started to pull at them, and Ron reached between them, abandoning his possessive claim against Pansy's small bump and instead moving to her clit. He used his thumb to rub in a slow circular motion and barely a second passed before the witch was screaming her completion and his name in the cold night air. He didn't allow himself to follow her until he was done marveling at her ecstasy, holding himself in place to watch as wave after wave took over her entire body before he thrust inside her one more time, his face buried in the side of her neck and felt himself coming undone around her.

They lay together afterwards, catching their breaths again as Ron kissed every inch of skin he could reach before moving down to Pansy's stomach. "Can we call him Lancelot?" he asked.

"What if it's a girl?"

"Rose."

Pansy smiled at that, and Ron moved closer, placing another kiss on her bump before saying "Hello Lancelot. I'm your daddy."

Pansy giggled, her hands stroking through his ginger hair as she watched the man she loved and finally felt happy for the first time in her life.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	6. Rude (Number 5)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Rude (Number 5)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M for Language**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst/General**

 **Pairing: Regulus Black/Marlene McKinnon**

 **Trigger Warnings: NA**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Rude**

* * *

 _'My dearest Marley,_

 _If you're reading this letter then I can only apologise and pray to every deity I know of that one day you will forgive me for what I'm about to say. You see the war can not be won so easily by your side if what I suspect the Dark Lord has done is true. And if it is Marley, my sunshine, my light, there is no hope for anyone let alone us. I must fix this and in order to do that I will have to sacrific myself. There is no other way. It has to be done. Keep Sirius from causing too much trouble. Stay safe. I love you._

 _Always yours,_

 _R.A.B'_

Regulus carefully penned the note, the last he suspected he would ever get the chance to write before burning the Black family wax seal on the back and sending it away with his owl. He was home alone for the evening and had plans. His parents were out funding yet another ministry gala with the Black vaults while they attempted to keep the family name in high regard. Sirius had moved to the Potter's a couple of summers previously and he had already gotten all the information he could out of Kreacher who was currently resting in his cupboard, an order he had received from his young master. Everything was in order, Marlene's letter was the last of the things he had left to do. He didn't have anything to leave for anyone and his parents would only miss him because their 'heir' would be dead despite him being the _younger_ Black brother. He woke Kreacher with a softly spoken command and the pair apparated to a cave he had never known existed until the day before.

Regulus was still a teenager, only of age for a year on that fateful night he sacrificed his life for that of the greater good. He expected to die. From the way Kreacher explained the effects and the tests that would be before him death was a certainty. He had gotten his affairs in order, had prepared, in what little time he had, to die. He _did_ die. But only for a minute or two.

Only for a minute until a Grim, of all the things to appear in a cave filled with death, dragged his arse out of the lake with dead hands. Inferi he later realised. The grim growled at the man under him, pushed him onto his side and forced the water out of the man's lungs before he passed out either from the coughing or the exhaustion.

Later Regulus wouldn't remember that the Grim was just a black dog that looked bigger and more threatening in the shadows, that the growl wasn't a hunter looking to its prey but one of a man frustrated with his brother. He wouldn't remember the feeling of magic and the sight of the animal shifting into the human form of one Sirius Black or the pull of apparition as his older brother, his shunned brother who he wasn't supposed to call brother anymore, apparated them away to someplace safe.

He wouldn't even know he was _alive_ for nearly a week after the incident. Kreacher had been stunned, his memory had been tampered with and Sirius had sent him back home under strict instructions not to tell a soul what had happened.

Walburga and Orion Black would mourn the death of their youngest son and remaining heir the next day. Though, as predicted, they were more bothered about their ancient and noble house than his actual death. There was no body of course but tapestries didn't lie. As far as the wizarding world was concerned Regulus Arcturus Black was no longer alive. The Death Eaters blamed the Order and the Order blamed the Death Eaters. One person knew the truth though since the truth was lying half dead on his couch in his small London flat.

It took six days for Regulus to finally wake and even then he was in and out of consciousness for the next twenty-four hours. Sirius claimed he was sick. He told the Auror department and the Order of the Phoenix that he had Dragon Pox ensuring nobody would go near him and holed himself up in his flat as he waited for his younger bother to come around.

"Where-where am I?" Regulus finally managed to choke out of the seventh day.

"Not dead"

"No shit, I bet even death looks better than this place" Regulus answered as his eyes begam to focus on his surroundings.

"Well you can always just pop on home to Mummy dearest"

"Fuck!" Regulus shouted as he sat up, apparently realisation setting in. "What happened?"

Sirius explained what had happened in the cave that night and the events since, explained how Regulus had been confirmed dead and that there had already been a burial in his honour. "But the tapestry, won't it say?"

"Technically you managed to die before I could save your arse. You must have been gone long enough for the stupid magic to register. Though I think this time the _tapestry_ is saving your life, not me. By the way, nice tattoo you have there." Sirius said as he poured them each a glass of firewhiskey and inclined his head towards Regulus' left arm.

Regulus instinctively covered his forearm with his sleeve. "It's not what you think"

"Try me"

Regulus swallowed the amber liquid down in one before he went on the explain the locket and his theory on Horcruxes. He explained that he had never had a choice but to take the mark though that much Sirius already knew. He explained how he had never truly been _'one of them'_ and had used his status and name to stay out of the thick of things and keep casualties as low as he could. He had tried, he had wanted out and Merlin, he had done his best but when he found out about the Horcurxes he knew, just _knew_ there was never going to be a way out. Knew it was only going to get worse. "You did get it didn't you? The locket?"

"You really think I would watch you nearly kill yourself over some necklace then leave it behind in a murder cave without finding out what the hell was going on? Here" He said as he pulled the golden chain from his pocket and tossed it to his brother.

Regulus was getting his first real look at the locket as Sirius interrupted his thoughts "You're gonna have to stay here mate, everyone thinks you're dead and I can only pretend to have Dragon Pox for so long before Mad Eye is tearing the wards down and finds us both in here."

Regulus nodded absently and the pair lasped into a few minutes of silence he had a sudden realisation. "Shit" he whispered. "I'm going to need another one of these" Regulus said as he threw his glass at his older brother who caught it with ease.

"What's up? Don't you want to be dead? Do you really want to go back to that life?"

"Of course I don't want to go back, that's not it. It's just-"

"There's a girl" Sirius said with a knowing smirk.

Regulus groaned. He really wasn't in the mood to be teased by his brother for being in love he was barely over _dying_.

"Little Reggie's got a girlfriend" Sirius sang as he walked back to the table where he kept the good Firewhiskey.

"Not anymore, she thinks I'm dead. Everyone does."

"Just tell her you're alive, problem solved."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that if I'm stuck in this dump?"

"Who is she? Maybe I could tell her."

"She wouldn't believe you, besides I'm sure she hates me enough right now. I wrote to her before I went to the 'murder cave'" Regulus said with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh so that's how it is? You tell your little girlfriend you're going on a suicide mission but your brother gets nothing?"

"It wasn't like that. She's...I love her. Besides, I asked her to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed out of trouble."

"Oh now I _have_ to know who she is" Sirius grinned.

Regulus groaned again "Marley" He said "It's Marley"

"Who the fuck is Marley?" Sirius asked before it dawned on him. "McKinnon? _Marlene McKinnon_? That's your girlfriend?"

Regulus wasn't sure if his brother was horrified or shocked at the news that he, Death Eater Regulus Black was in love with blood traitor and Order of the Phoenix member Marlene McKinnon. "The one and only. And she thinks I'm dead. I need to see her."

"Not so fast" Sirius said and, for the first time that night, he was deadly serious.

"What?" Regulus asked as he paled, he knew nothing good could come from Sirius' expression.

Sirius gulped. "McKinnon got engaged to one of the Prewett's the other day. Her father and his drew up the contract. It's all been signed."

"Then I have to stop her"

"It''s a bonding ceremony Reg"

"Fuck"

Bonding ceremonies were something only the older families participated in recently, they were for life. You literally bound your magic and soul to the person you claimed. It was a marriage that couldn't be broken. There was no way out. Ever.

"When?"

"Two weeks"

The two brother sat and drank the rest of the firewhiskey while they tried to come up with a plan to hide Regulus and save his relationship. In the end and despite his many, many objections to the idea, all they had to go on was to explain what had happened to Dumbledore. Regulus wasn't sure, he'd been bred to distrust the man, he'd hated him because of his blatant favouritism and lack of empathy towards the his Slytherin students but he had to agree there really was no other choice. The order needed to know about Horcruxes and it was best that it came from Regulus since it was him that had figured it out and nearly died trying to acquire.

After that they took to talking about how to destroy horcruxes, though neither had much clue and Sirius wasn't the type of wizard that kept books lying around unless you counted muggle motorcycle magazines and play-wizards. They resigned themselves to the fact that they would just have to wait and talk to Dumbledore the next day after the scheduled Order meeting.

oOoOoOo

When Sirius floo'd home with the elder wizard in tow once the meeting was over it was clear Dumbledore hadn't known what to expect. He seemed somehow enchanted that the younger Black son was alive. Sirius let Regulus explain what had happened with the exception of when he had had to save his brothers life and apparate him home where he faked being sick for a week in order to look after him. When the boys moved on to explaining about the reason they were in the cave and Regulus had told him of his theory regarding Horcruxes, the older wizard started to look a lot less amused and even a little scared. Something that unnerved both boys since they had never seen the man look so uncertain in all their time.

Regulus handed the locket to Dumbledore and explained he wasn't sure how to destroy it or even what the expect. The old man barely batted an eyelash, so struck with the mere idea that a Horcrux _could_ have been made being bad enough.

"Curious" Dumbledore whispered as he fingered the golden necklace.

He asked Regulus to join the Order, promised protection that Regulus only laughed at. He wore the brand, he was a Death Eater, an out cast. He would be shunned in the Order and once the Death Eaters found out he would have a target on his back. Besides, there was no such thing as protection when there were Horcruxes in the world.

"I wouldn't mind helping though, if you could have some books sent I would like to find out more about these" Regulus said as he pointed to the locket "My brother doesn't have much in the way of written word."

"I'm more of a picture book type of guy"

Dumbledore left not long after that with the promise of owling some books over. He took the locket with him, a great source of relief for the Black brothers.

"Now I just need to figure out how to win Marley back" Regulus sighed and he drooped onto the couch in exhaustion. The effects of dying the week before still playing on his boy.

oOoOoOo

Sirius had already left for work at the Ministry when Regulus woke the next morning, he quickly found a sober up potion in the otherwise bare cupboards and swallowed the contents before finding the shower and cleaning himself up. He was still in the clothes he had fallen into the dead lake wearing, the ones he had worn that night he left home for the first time and the thought made him feel sick. Sirius had cast a couple of cleaning charms here and there over the week but it wasn't enough so younger Black brother found some spare clothes of his brothers, thankful that they at least had similar tastes and the same thoughts on leather.

When he was finally washed and wearing what barely passed for clean clothes Regulus walked into the living room to find his old headmasters' Phoenix waiting for him with a rather large parcel. He hastily accepted the burden from the magnificent bird and watch as Fawkes flew off from a window he was sure had been closed when he left the room.

It seemed Dumbledore hadn't, for the first time in his life, taken a Slytherin for granted. He sent Regulus tomes upon tomes of books he had found that related to anything remotely close to Horcruxes. Regulus was surprised the old man even trusted him enough to have them in his possesion. He'd known who he was, _what_ he was and yet somehow, he had trusted, believed them when he said it was over.

Ignoring the unfamiliar pangs of hunger Regulus found himself immersed in the books and sat himself back down, eager to find any clue that could help them.

oOoOoOo

When Sirius arrived home later that evening, takeaway in tow, Regulus had already fully exhausted himself with the books. He'd not eaten anything all day, or, as he suspected, in over a week, and the smell of the Chinese food had his stomach growling audibly. Merlin how he had missed Chinese food. Merlin, he just missed food!

"Easy there tiger, at least let's find some forks to eat it with." Sirius said with a smirk.

"Well, I wouldn't be so hungry if you actually kept food in this place, how do you even survive?"

Sirius looked his brother in the eye as if he had just asked the most ridiculous question before his gaze travelled over to the takeaway he was still holding.

"Every night?"

"Or I got to Prong's place, Red cooks a mean Cottage Pie."

The brothers sat around the small table as they dug in to their meals, Regulus relishing each bite he swallowed as if it was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten.

When they had finished Sirius passed his brother a small piece of parchment.

"What's this?"

"McKinnon's address, they're under protection from the Order but I managed to get their address, when are you going over?"

Regulus gulped nervously. "Tonight." he answered hoarsely.

oOoOoOo

When it became suitably dark, dark enough to risk going outside without getting caught, the brothers both apparated to the address under the guise of a cloak that Sirius adamantly refused explain when Regulus asked.

They stood at the end of the driveway wearing near identical outfits, both sporting long black hair, it was hard to tell them apart under the moon light but even in the day time there was no mistaking them for brothers.

"What are you going to say?"

"I have no idea".

Sirius pushed his brother over the the line that held the wards, leaving Regulus no choice but to actually knock and announce his presence. His adams apple bobbed up and down as he walked towards the door. His palms sweaty and hands shaking he knocked on the door, praying for Marlene to be the one to answer.

Unfortunately he was met with Mr McKinnon, a man who he knew adamantly hated anyone named Black and him especially since he had found out Regulus was Marlene's secret in their last couple of years at Hogwarts. The man had hated him before then just because of who his parents were but Merlin, if looks could kill he'd have died a thousands times already. Every time they went home for the holidays Mr McKinnon would be waiting at the platform to retrieve his daughter and he would always, always find the time to make sure Regulus knew exactly how he felt about him.

David McKinnon had demanded his daughter end her 'little tryst' with the Black boy but Marlene refused. It was still kept a secret but her parents knew who she was dating and she knew how much they hated it. Eventually they came to stop talking about it altogether when they realised their daughter wouldn't listen. It suited Marlene just well as she was sick and tired of hearing them repeat the same mantra over and over 'He's a Black, he can't be trusted' 'I bet he already has the mark. It wouldn't surprise me' 'Those Black boys are more bad news than they're worth, you don't want to associate with their kind Marlene'

Regulus stood at the door, thankful for the first time in his life that he had been sorted into Slytherin and had an absolute bitch of a mother because it meant he knew how to act like he was confident and in control when he wasn't. It meant he had perfected his mask of indifference at an age where other toddlers where learning to walk.

"Godric- _fucking_ -Gryffindor you've got to be kidding me." The older man said when the door was open enough to see who had dared disturbed them at that time of night. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Sorry to disappoint, Sir. Is Marley home? I need to see her."

"I think you've done enough to her, don't you?"

"She thinks I'm dead"

"As it should be. What are you doing here?"

He didn't know what came over him then, David McKinnon was of the older generation and he knew he was traditional when it came to the important things. He wanted Marley, he needed her. She couldn't marry one of the Prewett's she was supposed to marry him. That's what he wanted. What they wanted. She even wore his ring. Or at least she did, he didn't know anymore. He'd taken it off and gave it to her as a sign of more to come. She was his she would _always_ be his.

"Can I have you daughter for the rest of my life?"

"You'll never get my blessing 'til the day I die, tough luck my friend but the answer is no."

"Why you got to be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?"

The door was just about to slam in his face as Regulus shouted "I'll marry her anyway"

With nothing else to do the brothers apparated back home, they had twelve days left to stop Marlene marrying a man she didn't love before she was gone forever.

oOoOoOo

Regulus started with the owls almost the second he woke the next morning. He wrote to Marlene and her parents. Desperate to show that he was worthy of their daughter he owled Dumbledore and officially became a member of the Order of the Phoenix before using his wand to disguise himself and going out into muggle London to buy some food since there was still none in the house and there was no way he was going to wait until Sirius came home again. Thankfully Sirius had left a small pile of muggle currency on the side and though he had no idea how to use it he decided he would just have to learn the hard way.

When he came home later on with enough food to feed them both for a week, Regulus set about making himself a sandwich before he started on the books again. He was desperate to find something, anything that would help. Desperate to prove himself.

It was about three in the afternoon when the owls returned two unopened letters and though Regulus expected it from Marlene's father he thought that she would at least open hers. He took himself to bed early after that, unable to concentrate enough any more.

oOoOoOo

Regulus continued to send owl after owl, day in day out and every time they would arrive the next morning unopened. After a full week of this Regulus finally realised he wasn't going to get anywhere, He hadn't been able to go to an Order meeting yet since Dumbledore was keeping his existence a secret from pretty much everyone, but when Sirius had accidentally let slip about a raid Marlene was on one night the younger man grew increasingly worried about the witch. He owled Dumbledore for information and when that wasn't good enough he apparated into the address he had been given. Eventually Dumbledore relented and gave him the information he needed though it wasn't good enough, Marlene was alive but had been hurt in the crossfire, she was in St Mungos for the night and though she would make a full recovery and be home the next day Regulus couldn't handle it. The witch might have been refusing his mail, sending it back and ignoring his entire existence but he still loved her, still needed her.

He used to invisibility cloak that night to get into St Mungos, he didn't tell Sirius because his brother didn't need to be in more trouble. It took him a while but he finally found Marlene's room on the fourth floor. There were no guards, no visitors, she was asleep.

Casting a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching, Regulus sneaked into the room and threw up some wards before slipping the cloak off.

He didn't have long, he knew she was due to be checked on in fifteen minutes so he had to be quick. He watched her chest rise up and down, needing the reassurance that she was alive before checking her body over for any damage he could find. There were a few small scars on her arms but nothing that would warrant a hospital stay, he gathered whatever it was that had got her was aimed at her chest but there was just something wrong with undressing a woman in her sleep to check for curse marks despite how many times you might have undressed her in the past. Regulus brushed away one or Marlene's curls as it fell in her face and kissed the top of her head gently while he took her hand in his. He didn't know what to say the witch had been rejecting him for over a week, he knew she would have been upset, mad even about the news that he had died but he had hoped she would have changed her mind by now. It was killing him. Being there, sitting so close and holding her hand, kissing her when he couldn't have her. It was torture of the worst kind.

As he rubbed his thumb absently over her hand he came into contact with a ring, he hadn't taken his eyes off of her face except to look for scars, he hadn't bothered to look at her hands. He was expecting to see some awful and gawdy engagement ring when he looked down but what he was met with shocked him. She was wearing _his_ ring. On her ring finger. She hadn't taken it off. He quickly looked to the other hand for confirmation and sure enough there was no other ring to be found. She still loved him. She was still his.

He smiled then for the first time in weeks and kissed her cheek. He wasn't expecting her to wake up, however brief it turned out to be. He froze as her brown eyes opened and locked with his.

"Reggie" She whispered, a smile playing on her lips "You came back"

She was back asleep before he could answer but he did anyway. "I'll always come back love"

oOoOoOo

Regulus managed to get in and out of St Mungos without being seen, not that it was particularly hard to do so since it wasn't exactly guarded. He apparated back to his brothers small flat to find he had gone out for the evening and, with a new found spring in his step he opened up the books once again. He was close, he knew it.

The next day he was called to a meeting with Dumbledore, the two sat and discussed what they had found so far, both coming up empty, before he went back home to continue his reading. He had just three books left to go through and four days until Marlene was due to bind herself to someone else for eternity.

He went back to the McKinnon's that night much more confidently. If he could just see Marley he knew, _knew_ he could get her to listen to him. She still wore his ring after all.

Her father opened the door again, he didn't even have time to knock, it was almost as if the older man was waiting for him.

"You were at the hospital"

Regulus knew well enough to know it wasn't a question and he didn't treat it like one, the man wanted respect so respect he was getting.

"She saw you" He carried on.

"Well what did you want me to do? She was hurt I'm her-"

"You're her nothing. Not anymore, she's engaged and getting married in a few days, the sooner the better."

"Look I know you don't like me but I love her. Please, just... can I have your daughter for the rest of my life?"

"You'll never get my blessing 'til the day I die, tough luck my friend because the answers still no."

"Why you got to be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too. I'm gonna marry her anyway."

Regulus apparated home again after that with the intentions of going back every night until the wedding, there were just three days left before he was out of time and he wasn't wasting any of it.

He sent owls two or three a day though they all came back and each night he would have the same conversation with Marlene's father. Never once did he see her. Not since that night in the hospital.

He continued to pour over the books until he was sure, sure he knew the answer to Horcruxes. As ridiculous as it sounded. Where the hell were they going to find _Basilisk venom_?!

oOoOoOo

When Marlene woke in the hospital the morning after the raid she was first unsure, the healers had given her a lot of pain potions and even a sleeping draught but, if she were a betting witch, and sometimes she was, she would have put all her galleons on that odd feeling she had that Regulus had been there the night before. She was sure of it, he'd kissed her and held her hand and she'd heard that beautiful voice she'd missed so much.

But how? Regulus Black was supposed to be dead, even his mother thought so. The Black family tapestry had shown a date of death, it had been in the Prophet, front page news. There had even been a burial. Though there was some speculation on why there had been no body.

Marlene had received a letter in the middle of the night, the night before he was declared dead. She had sobbed when she read it. She knew who he was, _what_ he was. She knew he was a good man who was working with the best he had been given. He didn't have the same opportunities as she did but he promised her, promised he was actually helping from his end, not making things worse. She cried for hours that first day, cried herself to sleep in the end. Her parents' relief was evident. It made her angry and even more sad. She cried every day after, barely leaving her room to use the bathroom.

A week into her grief and her father had drawn up a marriage contract which had been signed and sealed even with her protesting. He decided she needed to move on and what better way to do that than marriage. When she later looked over the contract and found that it was actually a binding instead she actually threw up. There was only one man she was willing to bind herself to, they'd even talked about it. They were going to run off together soon and elope. It was the only way, nobody could do anything once they were bound, it was for life. Unfortunately that meant nobody could do anything about her being a Prewett when it happened either. She was well and truly fucked.

She threw herself into her work at the ministry, went to every Order meeting and volunteered for all the missions she could before drowning her sorrows in the pub every night. She was still grieving and the alcohol helped. She was never home, out all night and at work before the owls came in the morning. She thought if she distracted herself long enough she could forget about the pain but once work finished, once the meetings were over she would apparate to the nearest pub and drink herself stupid on the firewhiskey before the barman would floo her home.

That's how she had felt when she volunteered for the raid that night. It was supposed to be a normal raid, Death Eaters were expected to be trying to get into the ministry that night and since she worked there she knew it well so when she offered to go, not because she wanted to but because she _needed_ to, needed to it to take her mind of off another certain Death Eater; she was chosen first.

She had been paired with Fabian Prewett, the man she was supposed to marry in less than a week and she had hated every moment of the situation. She was supposed to be using the raid as a way too forget but how could she when the ginger haired reason for half of her problem was the one watching her back?

She had to admit, it wasn't his fault the curse had hit her square in the chest, she was lucky it wasn't anything worse and he port-keyed her straight out and to St Mungos before going back alone. He'd pretty much saved her and why? Because she thought she saw _him_ she thought she saw Regulus. One of the Death Eaters, she wasn't sure who, but it was the one that had hit her. He was the same height as Regulus, built similarly though not that you could tell under the masks and cloaks but he moved like her Reggie and that was what she spotted. Then she noticed that the sparks from this Death Eaters wand were a slightly less scary red than the others. whoever he was wasn't cursing to kill they were cursing to get their opponents down, to keep them down. They were cursing her. She watched as she ducked and blocked jet after jet of this slightly less than red light but in the end her curiosity got the better of her and before she knew it she was in St Mungos and Regulus was kissing her head and she had never been happier in her entire life.

When she woke the next morning and excitably told her parents and Dumbledore what had happened nobody had believed her, they reiterated that Regulus was dead and there was no way he had saved her the night before. Fabian had saved her, not Regulus. And he certainly hadn't been in her room in the middle of the night because he was _dead_. No one could explain the curse though. Not even Dumbledore. They led her to believe the medication was making her hallucinate, a healer agreed it was a possibility and suggested that maybe he even gave her too much of the potions.

She idly sat at home the next two days, unable to go to work until she healed completely and, with a bonding ceremony looming over her head she wasn't sure she even wanted to work, she couldn't concentrate enough as it was and she certainly wasn't sleeping. She tried to find a loophole, anything that would get her out of the contract. She begged and pleaded with her parents to rip up the contract but her father was adamant, he wanted to pass her off to someone trustworthy and reliable, he wanted her to no longer be an issue he had to deal with.

oOoOoOo

It was the night before Marlene's bonding ceremony and Regulus couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned on the old couch as he tried to imagine a scenario, any scenario where he could just get the witch to listen to him. she still sent his owls back unopened and no matter how many times he had been to her house the conversation went the same way every time. He was fresh out of luck and had just one idea left. One idea that could get him killed. But life wasn't worth living if he couldn't live it with her.

Regulus fingered Sirius' invitation in his hands the next morning, he already knew the time and date the bonding was to happen, but he held the parchment as he contemplated just how badly things could actually go. He had a meeting in a couple of hours with Dumbledore where he was to tell the old man of his theory with Basilisk Venom then he was free to lay his life in her hands.

oOoOoOo

Marlene got up that morning like it was any other, she had barely slept and had spent the majority of the night begging her father again and again to change his mind. She eventually cried herself to sleep in the early hours of the morning when he wouldn't relent.

She woke and showered, she ate and drank but the tears were gone. She had nothing left to try, her father had made his stance perfectly clear and her mother had no say in the matter. She was to wed Fabian later that day and there was not a damn thing anyone could do to stop it.

Her mothher helped her with her dress later on when the hair-witch and make up glamour-er had done their jobs. She hadn't told them what she wanted done, she didn't want anything done. She wanted to crawl back into bed. They piled her blonde curls on the top of her head in some fancy up do that she would never have worn herself, her make up was okay but a bit heavy, heavy enough to hide the bags and evidence of sleep deprivation and crying - it wasn't something she would have chosen though. She wore her mothers old gown but only because she had had absolutely no inclination to shop for her own. It was all lace and fit her just perfectly in fact, it was the one thing of the whole ensemble, the whole day, that she did like.

Her moves were similar to that of a robot, she didn't speak unless spoken to, didn't move unless told to. It was as if she were acting under the imperious curse and she hated it.

When the time came her mother floo'd to thr church. It was a wizarding church that was used specially for weddings and bonding ceremonies, a ministry official would officiate rather than in muggle churches where they used priests. Marlene and her father floo'd next, it seemed he wasn't taking chances with his daughter and giving her no way to escape.

They arrived in time to see the last of the guests pouring in, Marlene spotted Sirius as he came out of the floo next to her. She was just dusting off her dress as he approached her.

"Have to say McKinnon" Sirius said as he bowed to the witch "I was surprised to get an invitation at all, you know since us Black's are so unacceptable. Though, you do look rather beautiful I can see now why Reggie fell for you." Sirius smirked at the witch as he went in and took his seat next to Lily and James.

Marlene was stood in shock, as far as she knew Sirius didn't know about her and his brother, as far as she knew he had never told a soul and what was all that business about being unacceptable? She had no idea but her head was buzzing.

Her father, seeing the cogs working in her head, pushed her forward and suddenly the music was playing and there was no time to think, only walk.

She walked down the aisle in her mothers dress, arm in arm with her father as they neared Fabian at the alter, for every step she took twenty thoughts ran through her mind. For every breath she took she tried to explain what happened. But nothing made sense, Nothing.

She reached Fabian in sixteen steps, sixteen steps that felt like six and before she knew it the officiate was droning on and she had zoned out.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. She was supposed to be happy, she was supposed to be excited, nervous even as she walked down the aisle to bind herself to the man she loved. Not a man she barely tolerated and liked just find in a completely platonic way. She was supposed to want this. But she didn't and then she was being asked to bind herself to the ginger haired man in front of her and she didn't know if she could.

oOoOoOo

Regulus gave his final report to Dumbledore before he apparated away as quickly as he could, time was already tight and he couldn't spare even a second.

He'd gone to the church earlier in the week, a back up plan maybe? Or just to see the place the love of his life was going to give herself to another man? He wasn't sure but he was glad for it since it meant he could apparate there.

He didn't care that it was the middle of the day, didn't care that he would be seen by everyone, he could hardly hide forever as it was anyway so he apparated to the steps and blasted the doors open.

Everyone turned to see what the commotion was and gasps of shock were rung out in the air as Regulus Black walked down the aisle.

"Oh for fucks sake I forgot the popcorn" Sirius exclaimed as he beamed at his little brother.

oOoOoOo

Marlene turned at the noise, unsure what the expect. For a split second she almost couldn't see who or what it was that was interrupting her bonding ceremony but when he stepped out of the light and moved towards her she nearly fainted. He was real. It hadn't been a dream. He was real and he was here.

oOoOoOo

Regulus looked at Marlene and kept his gazed fixed firmly on her, she had been about to take his ring off for another "Don't even think about taking that off Marley" He almost growled at the sight. He edged closer and closer and, just before he reached the witch, his witch, a familiar figured stepped in front of her, blocking his view.

"Not so fast, Black. We had an agreement."

"No, we didn't. I asked for your daughters hand in marriage you adamantly refused. I owled every day for two weeks and you sent them back. Did she even know I was alive? Marley?" He asked as he took a small step to his left and turned to the bride standing before him.

"H-how are you alive?" She ask as her hand reached out, eager to touch him and feel just how real he was.

"You can thank Sirius for that" Regulus answer as he cocked his head towards his brother who was clearly enjoying the show.

Boo's and hisses still rung out, shouts of 'he's a Death Eater' were thick in the air mixed with the tension of the moment before Regulus was down on one knee and said "Marry me, now. Marry me now."

Marlene shot one brief look to Fabian before she shouted "Yes" and threw herself at Regulus. "I thought you were dead" she aid as she sobbed into his shirt. "I thought I'd never see you again Reggie. You scared me."

"I know, love, I know. I'm sorry"

"Ah hem" The pair turned to see Marlene's father, his face twisted into such rage he was almost purple. "You can't get out of this contract, Marlene. You're bound to it and the Prewett boy."

"Actually, she can get out of it if both parties agree and are of age" Regulus answered as his witch curled against his side. He turned towards Fabian who smiled in relief, it was clear he hadn't wanted to marry Marlene either. "So what do you say love? Want to make it official?"

"Do you promise never to die again?"

Regulus stifled a laugh as he kissed his witch for the first time in nearly a month.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	7. An Eye for An Eye (Number 6)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: An Eye for An Eye (Number 6)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: T … possibly M? The author wasn't sure. - Megan**

 **Genre: Angst**

 **Pairing: Alastor Moody/Dolores Umbridge (Moobridge)**

 **Trigger Warnings: Character Death, Murder Plotting**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **An Eye for An Eye**

* * *

 _Dolores Umbridge was sat in her office eagerly awaiting the results from the latest mission, quietly confident that everything would go to plan. Many would say she was a bitter woman, and they would be right. After all, things could have been so different. She could of been happy, they could have been happy, it was not to be though. He had ruined her and she would ruin him in return. It was simple really, The Dark Lord had given his word that he would kill him as a favour for all her hard work. Mundungus would disapparate whilst in the skies and once the job was done he would come back to collect her trophy. Alastor Moody would be dead, his heart frozen, just as cold as hers and he would only have himself to blame. So when the Spotted Wood Owl landed on her desk and left her the package, why did her breathing hitch? Why did her fingers tremble as she opened it? And why did a tear slide down her cheek as she held out her long awaited trophy? The answer to that was simple, she had loved him and love was a very curious thing._

They had first met in the Hogwarts library. Dolores was in her 6th year and had decided to write her transfiguration essay in the library, away from the sneers of the Slytherin common room. Alastor who was in his seventh year, noticed she was often sat alone in the library. He decided to introduce himself, after all he was a Gryffindor and he hated to see anyone lonely. She was beautiful too, her hair deep brown in colour, flowed in perfect curls just below her shoulders and framed her face beautifully. It highlighted her eyes that were like liquid chocolate. She was short and curvy and one of the prettiest girls Alastor had ever seen at Hogwarts. He approached the desk Dolores sat at and took a deep breath "Hey" he spoke softly. Dolores did not look up from her work, instead she sighed, "What do you want?" "You looked lonely, I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Alastor but you can call me Al. What's your name?" He asked her confidently. Dolores breathing slowed, there was something about his gruff voice that sent chills deep into her bones. Slowly she looked up at the first boy who had noticed her since she arrived at the castle. He was perfect, a good 6ft tall, burly with ash blonde hair that fell just past his fierce eyes. His face well chiseled looked as though it had been carved out of wood, and his smile. Oh Merlin what a smile. Dolores put her quill down, and held out her hand. "I'm Dolores, it's a pleasure" she replied sweetly. Alastor took her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon it. "The pleasure is all mine, now tell me all about yourself Doll." Dolores giggled. It was in that moment that she knew that she wanted him, all of him.

They spent the next few weeks by each other's sides meeting after dinner most days. Dolores had never smiled so much in her entire time at Hogwarts than she did when she was around Alastor. It was exactly 1 month and 3 days after they first met that they shared their first kiss. They had been walking around the grounds talking about what they wanted to do when they finished Hogwarts. Alastor had built up the courage to grab Dolores' hand and when they reached the black lake he stopped and turned himself to her. Dolores' heart was racing as she looked into his fierce eyes. Alastor gulped and took several steps forward as he nervously spoke, "Listen Doll, I know we haven't known each other long and I don't know what it is but being around you makes me so happy, it makes me feel a way I've never felt before and I don't know how to say this to you, so it's probably best I just show you what I mean" With that he leaned forward and placed a kiss onto Dolores' lips, she gasped ever so slightly and returned the gesture. Her tummy full of butterflies and her skin tingling as she pulled him closer and weaved her fingers through his hair. Alastor groaning as she did this and wrapped his hands around her waist. Alastor eventually broke the kiss and looked into the chocolate pools of Dolores' eyes. "So I take that as a yes, you'll be my girlfriend?" He asked smugly. "Of course silly, I can't think of anything better" she giggled in response then quickly kissed him again. Eventually they parted their ways for the evening and returned to their common rooms. Dolores was greeted by the usual spiteful comments from the Carrow twins, "Disgrace to Salazars name, daughter of a muggle lover and sister of a squib" she had never risen to them, instead she would just walk away and shut herself in her room. This time was different however, they had gone too far and something would need to be done. "Just like her muggle mother, tainting a pure blood line with her muggle genes" Alecto had said loudly to anyone who was listening, which was met with murmurs of agreement from the other Slytherins. Instead of speaking up though Dolores decided she needed to do something about the disgrace her father had brought to the Umbridge family. She would have to rid her father of the stains, it was the only way. Only then would she be taken seriously. As the weeks went by Dolores and Alastor were growing closer. Their relationship blossomed, they would walk the halls hand in hand planning their futures. It was the highlight of Dolores' day being with Alastor. She was always brought crashing back into reality though whenever she returned to the dungeons.

The Easter holidays were fast approaching and having finally made her mind up Dolores began to plan. She would have the summer to put her plan in motion. Come 7th year no one would dare look at her as anything but pure. After all, a pure blood should only be with a pure blood. She would convince the world that her father had an affair with a pure blood, one of which resulted in the conception of herself. An affair that would have needed covering up as it was not the pure blood way to conceive out of wedlock, especially to an already married man. It would work. The more Dolores thought on the plan the more confident she grew. The Easter holidays arrived and she sat with her father to discuss the matter further. He was more than happy to help, he as always would do anything to please his daughter. Her father not wanting to incriminate himself or his daughter instructed her to never speak of it. If this was to be a success her mother and brother would need to be forgotten. On returning to Hogwarts from her Easter holidays, Dolores was eager to meet with Alastor, she had missed him. They had written to each other and agreed to meet in the library after eating lunch in the great hall. Dolores decided to skip the meal and arrived early to do some research on how to best to rid herself of her mother and brother. She pulled out journals containing some notes on memory charms, untraceable poisons and pureblood wizarding families. She began to add to her research when Alastor, who having noticed Dolores was not in the great hall for lunch, arrived at the library. "Hey Doll, studying through lunch?" Dolores shut her note book quickly and gathered her books. "Yeah I thought I'd squeeze some potions work in before class and it seemed logical to do it before you got here." With that she was on her feet and Alastor had her in a tight embrace. Kissing her forehead lightly he whispered "I missed you Doll, not seeing you for 2 weeks almost destroyed me. I spoke to my father and he said that providing I give my newts my all, you can stay with us for a few weeks in summer before I start my Auror training. Obviously he will write to your mother and father asking permission himself but what do you say?" Dolores cringed when he had mentioned her mother and their was a look of concern in him on seeing it but Dolores gleefully smiled, "That sounds wonderful Al! Oh we can have the perfect summer together. I can't wait." Alastor had a grin like a Cheshire Cat as he placed his hands either side of Dolores head and kisses her hard with passion, only to be interrupted by Madame Pince. Alastor turned towards her and apologised stepping back from Dolores, he held onto her hand though and lead her towards the table. Alastor glanced over towards Dolores and smiled a wicked grin, "I love you Dolores Jane Umbridge" Dolores blushed and giggled "I love you too Alastor"

The next few weeks went by in a blur, with Dolores and Alastor barely spending time together. He was busy with his exams and Dolores was busy writing plans and gathering information, that would be of use to her and her father. The time they did spend together was spent in the library, where Dolores fawned over him and would ask him questions on his family history and pureblood customs. She was forever writing in her journal and whenever he would ask what she was doing she would shut it quickly and try to change the subject. She was changing though, ever since she had returned from home at Easter he had noticed how she would avoid muggleborns in the halls and how the Slytherins she had once detested she now admired and idolised. Alastor wasn't sure how much more he could take of the sweet girl he loved turning into the thing that bought her great distress. He would not give up just yet though. Surely she was just going through a phase. The following day at lunch Alastor sat with Dolores at the Slytherin table, "Hey Doll, want to do something fun tonight? I was thinking after curfew we could sneak up to the astronomy tower and spend some time together away from books and people. What do you say?" "Sure, that sounds great. I have some stuff I need to take care of after dinner but shall we meet at 10pm?"

"Yeah sounds great, 10pm at the tower. See you doll and remember, constant vigilance! Don't get caught" he winked and gave her a kiss. "So my lady can I escort you to class" "Sure, let me drop a few things back at the dungeons and then we can go?" "You'll be late if you do that. How about I'll drop you to class and I'll take whatever you need and put them in my trunk as the tower is right by your class?" "I'm not really sure Al, It'll be fine I'll just take it with me." "Doll it will be fine, here I'll take them and then I'll give it all back later. I'm your boyfriend trust me" Dolores sighed, of course she trusted him but her journal was in there and she couldn't really afford for it to get in the wrong hands. It was Alastor though and she was pretty confident he wouldn't go snooping and was even more confident of his protection skills. The journal would be fine, it was warded anyway. "Fine you win, take me to class and then take these straight to your dorm, bring them with you later ok?" Alastor smiled and loaded the pile of books into his bag."After you my love" he said as Dolores rose from her seat and began the walk to her charms class. Alastor thought that the time together would do them both the world of good.

Alastor arrived at the Astronomy tower at 10:05pm and was impressed to see Dolores had transfigured some leaves and sticks into a fort. Inside rocks had been transfigured to make cushions and pillows and she had charmed a lamp to hover above. It was cozy, Alastor sat in front of Dolores and smiled. "You have really outdone yourself, this is amazing!" Dolores blushed, "Thanks Al, I should definitely ace my Transfiguration newt next year! Hopefully I'll be head girl too and then I'll finally show everyone that, I, Dolores Jane Umbridge am a somebody. Who knows I could even be running this school in 30 years with you by my side." Dolores was now gripping onto Alastor's hands wide eyed. Alastor pulled away one of his hands and brought it up to Dolores face, leaning in closer he whispered onto her lips, "We can be anything we want to be" with that his lips came crashing down on to Dolores, his hand cupping her face. The kiss held much more passion and fire than any of their previous. Their tongues danced, Alastor grazed Dolores bottom lip with his teeth, with this she let out a small groan of pleasure. Alastor had soon guided Dolores down into the cushions and was above her. Kissing her neck, his hands travelled down to her breasts, he cupped them, and continued to move his hands, down her stomach until they reached the hem of her shirt. He paused waiting for the confirmation to proceed, he soon had her shirt off when she began to tug at his. Dolores wrapped her arms around Alastor and gripped onto his back. Groaning as his kisses began to trail her body, down her collarbone and onto her bra. He took a hand pushed it down releasing her breast and in one swift movement he took her nipple into his mouth swirling his tongue around it. Dolores gasped, "Oh Merlin, that feels amazing. Those sweet pure blooded lips I want them all over me, please Alastor" Alastor stopped and sat up quickly. Dolores looked up in confusion. "Is that all you can think about? My pureblood lips? Dolores we were about to lose our virginity, and that is what you think about. My blood status! Your obsessed Dolores and I don't think I can do this with you. You've changed since Easter, you're not the girl I fell in love with anymore. I thought I could do this, I thought you wanted me for me. Tell me, would we be doing this if I were half blood!... You really are just like the other Slytherins, it finally shows through!" Dolores looked up at the man she loved, he was angry she could tell. He was right though, she was obsessed but she was only doing it for him. She wanted to be pure for him. What if he wasn't pure though would she still be doing the same? "Yes of course I would, I would fix it so we could both be pure Alastor. I'm doing this for us, for you" Alastor grabbed his shirt, stood up and looked down at Dolores. "I don't want this, I don't care for blood or any of it. Clearly you don't know me Dolores and I obviously don't know you as well as I thought. I can't be with someone like that Dolores. I despise people like you, and when I leave here I will do anything within my power to stop people being like you. Starting with you. Goodbye Dolores." With that Alastor was gone. Dolores sat there tears spilling from her eyes. Her heart shattered. Dolores suddenly felt very cold and vulnerable, she got herself dressed whilst sobbing her heart out. Not knowing what to do next, she curled up into a ball as she was so exhausted from all the crying and didn't move from the Astronomy tower all night.

Alastor marched straight to Gryffindor tower, his blood boiling. He was angry, hurt and most of all he felt betrayed. After everything she was only in it for the status that he held in the pureblood community. Oh how he wished it was different. Alastor drew his wand and cast a quick "Muffliato" around his bed area and trunk and then tossed it screamed in frustration growing angrier with her and eventually himself. What if she hadn't meant it in the way that he had assumed. Fuck what if it was just pillow talk. Maybe he was looking at it the wrong way. Oh Merlin he would never forgive himself if he had thrown away the woman he loved over a few silly words and not a lot else. Panicking he quickly went to grab his wand tripping over his trunk as he did. Then he remembered, he still had Dolores' journal. He could read it and get all the answers he needed. He opened the trunk quickly took out the journal and began frantically reading the pages. It didn't take long for Alastor to have all the answers he needed. As quickly as he had opened the book he had it shut. Gathering his wand from his bed he ran from the room. He had to fix this.

Dolores awoke the next day to the sounds of whispers and the sudden brightness of the fort blanket being removed. She was lead away to Headmaster Dippet's office by Professor Dumbledore. She would soon learn that Alastor had read her journal and informed Professor Dippet almost instantly, raising concerns for Dolores' muggle mother and brother, who by now had been escorted to a safe location by Aurors, whilst her father was questioned about his involvement. After finally convincing the Professors and Aurors that she had meant nothing by her notes and that it was all just the random thoughts of a teenage girl under a lot to pressure, she was free to leave Professor Dippet's office. She was lucky to get away with a warning, she was stripped of her chance to be Head Girl and informed that she would spend the remainder of the term and the summer working with various squibs and muggle borns to show how important they were to wizarding society. Dolores was livid, more angry than she had been in her entire life. She stormed the castle in search of Alastor. Growing more furious with each step she took. She found him eventually by the Astronomy tower. She marched over wand drawn and pushed him against the wall. "You! How could you! You knew, knew how much you meant to me. Yet you do this! How dare you! You have ruined me, destroyed me! I loved you Alastor, you were everything and you do this. Mark my words Alastor. I'll get my revenge, one day you will have no choice but to be by my side and watch! I will destroy you and everything you have worked for! I will ruin you like you have ruined me. Mark my words Alastor Moody. You'll see" She took one last look at him. Lowered her wand, wiped her blood shot and tear filled eyes, straightened her skirt. "Goodbye Alastor" with that she turned and walked away.

The last few weeks at Hogwarts were difficult for Dolores, but she was determined. Her father was released having convinced the Aurors he had never intended any harm to his wife but simply divorce her and somehow managed to have them agree to obliviate her and their son and place them in a safe environment that even he was not to know where. Dolores could at least now be free of them and move on to convince the wizarding world she was pure. It was years before she saw Alastor again. He was walking with his arm wrapped around the waist of a muggleborn girl she recognised from the year below her at Hogwarts. He did not stop when Dolores said hello, he just looked at her blankly like he did not know her. This encounter enraged Dolores, now she was more determined then ever to get her revenge. She would make sure he would watch helplessly as all muggle borns were rid from their world. Starting with the woman by his side.

 _Dolores wiped the tears from her eyes, straightened herself up and charmed her trophy to the door of her office. She stood back and admired years of work and planning. Gave a small giggle and whispered "An eye for an eye Alastor, now you can watch by my side." She walked back into her office and closed her door. The door that contained the magical eye of the now late Alastor Moody._

* * *

 **Reviews: Honest but Polite**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	8. The Match (Number 7)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: The Match (Number 7)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Fluff/Lemon**

 **Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Lavender Brown**

 **Trigger Warnings: Marriage Law, Language, Sex**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **The Match**

* * *

May 5, 2003

7:43pm

She was late, the stupid chit. He had told her to meet him at half seven; he had been specific about the time, and yet, she had the audacity to leave him waiting, fidgeting uncomfortably in his own study while the paunchy wizengamot official in attendance checked his watch between sips of the Malfoy's least expensive firewhiskey. For a girl who he had thought would be easily handled, she was proving most irksome.

"You're sure I wasn't early?" asked the man, one hand resting on his sizeable belly as he tried to break the stiff silence.

"No." Lucius responded without inflection, not bothering to say more as he fixed his eyes on the flames in the fireplace, as if he could glare the girl into punctuality by sheer force of will. To his surprise, they jumped, changing at once from ordinary yellow and orange to a brilliant emerald green.

"Sorry I'm late!" cried the blonde haired girl as she stepped through from the flames in which she had appeared and onto Lucius' expensive Persian rug, shaking soot from the hem of her gown and making his lip curl.

She had dressed up, and for some reason the fact irritated him. He had told her that there would be no need to wear anything other than her normal, day to day garb. He certainly hadn't made more than his usual effort for the occasion. Granted, his usual was likely far more formal than hers, but it was less about the clothes and more about the message they sent.

"Ah! Miss Brown! How pleasant to see you!" The old man sprang from his seat at an incredible pace for one of his stature, approaching the young woman and placing a friendly hand on her bare shoulder. The contact made Lavender beam and Lucius scowl. At the moment the girl was nothing to him, but very soon-

"Miss Brown, so good of you to finally join us." Lucius took care to inject as much venom into his voice as he dared in the presence of the geriatric ministry official.

"Mr. Everthorpe," Lavender said warmly, ignoring Lucius completely in favor of the balding old man who she apparently knew. "It's so nice to see you, truly. I think the last time I had the pleasure I must have been a child."

"Oh yes, my dear," agreed Everthorpe, "It was a decade ago at least. And I must say, you have bloomed into a lovely young woman since then."

Lavender blushed prettily and Lucius rolled his eyes behind the paunchy wizard's back.

"You're too kind, sir." The girl demurred, shifting just subtly enough that Everthorpe didn't seem to notice that when his hand fell from her shoulder it was entirely on purpose. The loss of contact between the two served to satisfy Lucius' pettiness.

"Do tell me, Miss Brown, how is your lovely mother?"

"Very well, thank you. She wanted to come, but as you know, Violet is signing her contract tonight as well, and given who she's paired with… well, we thought she could use the support."

Everthorpe shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of the elder Miss Brown's circumstances and changed the subject.

"I see. That is a lovely gown you're wearing." As Everthorpe spoke, Lucius allowed himself to study the gown in detail, noting as his eyes travelled up then down her form that the blush colored dress served to highlight her delectable curves to best advantage. Probably planned, if he knew anything about the girl wearing it.

"Thank you," Lavender replied politely.

"Enough," Lucius interjected at last, bored with the increasingly awkward encounter and eager to forget that his mind had labeled her body delectable. "We three have come here with a purpose this evening, have we not?" It was Lavender's turn to roll her eyes now, and she did so expertly.

Mr. Everthorpe cleared his throat. "Quite right," he agreed, "Now, some pairs have requested a more poetic contractual-"

"There will be no need for anything more than your obligation and your witness here tonight, Everthorpe," Lucius dismissed. Just behind the older man, Lavender's eyes flashed and Lucius felt a tinge of amusement that he tried his best to ignore.

"Ah, very well," said Everthorpe, and he moved to take Lucius' normal spot behind the desk. Once he had settled there and both Lucius and Lavender were positioned side by side opposite him, he withdrew his wand. With a great deal of flourish he waved it, producing two identical scrolls from the tip and laying them down side by side on the desktop, unfurled. Lavender peered down at them, obviously curious as to their contents.

"If you have no objections," said Everthorpe kindly, "I will begin."

"By all means," drawled Lucius, and Lavender shot him an annoyed glance, which he returned with a smirk.

Everthorpe cleared his throat and spoke in what Lucius was sure the man thought of as his 'official' voice. "As you are both aware, we are here today to finalize the ministry approved marriage contract between Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, a widower, and Lavender Rosemary Brown, a single woman. Both magical and genetic testing have revealed this pair to have an extremely high probability of yielding magically gifted children, and as such, the ministry has seen fit to bind together this pair in matrimony."

Lucius nearly scoffed at the word and Lavender sighed in apparent exasperation.

"Furthermore, it is required that the pair produce the magically gifted children within the eight years following the signing of these documents, or they will risk fines and imprisonment." This time, Lucius did scoff, crossing his arms as the ridiculous litany of Ministry requirements was read. At his side, he thought he heard a muffled chuckle from the girl, his child bride, he thought, despite knowing the girl to be twenty-three years old as of her last birthday… the same age as Draco.

"After the contract is signed, I will fit both partied with wedding bands which will monitor the health, fertility, and sexual activity of the couple, ensuring that all due effort is made to adhere to the requirements of the contract."

His cock was being fitted with a trace, Lucius thought bitterly.

"And lastly, the rings will ensure fidelity, and may only be removed by the ministry at the end of the pairs successfully accomplished contractual obligation, if that is, the pair wishes to sever their marriage contract." Everthorpe paused, peering at first Lucius and then Lavender. "Are the terms of the contract understood by both parties?"

Lucius nodded once stiffly and Lavender gave a soft, "Yes," after which Everthorpe smiled and waved his wand again, producing two matching quills and inkwells.

"If you will both indicate your acknowledgement by signing these documents."

Lucius snatched up one of the quills at once, not wanting to prolong the moment as he hastily signed his name at the bottom of the ministry's new marriage contract. When he was done he dropped the quill at once. Lavender was not so hasty, much to Lucius' chagrin. She took her time, reading over the contract before finally signing her name to it. Lucius noticed as she did so the wide loops of her handwriting, and the way she added a completely unnecessary heart where the 'o' in Brown ought to have gone.

"Merlin's balls," Lucius muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Everthorpe, who had begun to roll up the two scrolls.

"Nothing," Lucius lied, clearing his throat.

"Yes, well," Everthorpe continued, "Put these on if you would." He reached out with one hand, turning it palm up and opening it to reveal a pair of twin gold bands. Lucius and Lavender reached forward simultaneously, their hands brushing as they each grabbed one of the proffered rings. Lucius withdrew his immediately, trying his best to ignore the fact that her hand was softs and fine and that he could now smell the lavender scented shampoo in her hair.

He slipped the Ministry's wedding band onto his bare ring finger and felt it adjust magically to fit him. He twisted the ring experimentally and tugged. Though the thing spun without difficulty, it did not budge from its place between his second and third knuckles.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy," said Everthorpe, startling lucius and causing him to look up at the man quickly. "Let me be the first to offer the Ministry's sincere congratulations. I wish you all the happiness in the world."

O-O-O-O-O-O

She would be lying if she said she had never fancied Lucius Malfoy. On her first trip to Diagon Alley as a Hogwarts bound student, she had been to Ollivander's at the same time as Draco, and while she had found the boy unbearable, the father had been nothing but charming- once he had ascertained that Lavender and her mother were Purebloods, and not numbered among the countless unworthy Mudbloods Draco had disparaged as he had tried various wands.

From the moment Lucius had smacked Draco on the back of the head and told him to mind his language in the presence of a lady, Lavender had carried a small torch for the man. Of course, over time it had dimmed, especially as she had come to realize who he was outside of her mother;s hastily whispered "very rich" that morning in Ollivander's. Though her Slytherin mother thought little of the Malfoy's wartime connections, her Gryffindor daughter did not care for them. Of course, over the years what she thought of Lucius Malfoy mattered very little in the scheme of things, At Hogwarts she had all but forgotten her childish crush, abandoning it quickly in favor of more attainable romances. Dean Thomas had been her first kiss at the age of 14, followed quickly by some boy from Durmstrang, Lee Jordan, Zacharias Smith, Cormac McLaggen, Ron Weasley, Hannah Abbott, and Seamus Finnegan, the last of whom she'd finally let get all the way. After that, the names mattered little. There had been a long line of men and women with which she had drowned her sorrows after the war, as she had mourned the loss of her best friend, Parvati Patil, to the beast Fenrir Greyback.

Lucius too must have mourned, she thought. Afterall, he had lost his wife in the very same battle that had taken her friend's life. Narcissa Malfoy had been felled by You-Know-Who as she and her family had tried to flee from the scene of that final confrontation. Of course the Malfoy's mourning had been accomplished largely in private after Draco had been cleared of all charges related to crimes committed as an underage wizard, and after Lucius had managed to convince the Wizengamot that he posed no danger to society comfortably ensconced at Malfoy Manor. Lavender suspected each of the judges had received a substantial boost to their vaults after that ruling.

All of that was practically ancient history now though, thought Lavender. Afterall, what did her new husband's past crimes matter when weighed against the greater needs of the wizarding world? What did it matter that he had supported You-Know-Who if he had a working cock and a high sperm count? The magical population was at an all time low after the war, and every person mattered- as evidenced by her sister; Violet's match, Gilderoy Lockhart, still occupied a room as St. Mungo's.

Lavender watched the flames in the Floo subside from green to yellow and her stomach lurched. Well, there went Mr. Everthorpe. While he was not her favorite of her Mother's many former suitors, he had been an excellent buffer between herself and Mr. Malfoy. Lucius, Lavender reminded herself. If she was going to spend the next eight years of her life with the man, she would bloody well call him by his given name.

"You know, the traditional color for a young bride to wear on her wedding day is white." Lucius spoke from where he stood near the fire-place, his eyes roving over Lavender's generous curves and the pale pink satin gown she wore.

"Are you asking whether I'm a virgin?" She replied archly, staring pointedly at the man in a way she had learned often made men uncomfortable.

"What? Absolutely not!" He spluttered, his cheeks pinkening and making her laugh. Bless him.

"I'm not," she answered anyway, "But neither are you, so I think we'll make a fine match."

The news seemed to surprise Lucius, who she supposed was more used to the traditionally virginal pureblood brides of the previous generations. She'd be willing to bet all the gold in Gringotts that both Lucius and Narcissa had been virgins when they had been married; it was just the way things had been done. Still, to his credit Lucius did not remark on his new bride's bold declaration.

"And anyway," Lavender continued, "Pink is my color."

"Your color," repeated Lucius, who was staring at her skeptically. Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Yes." She spoke firmly, making it clear by the tone of her voice that she was uninterested in discussing the subject any further. This seemed to amuse Lucius for some reason and he smirked where he stood. Lavender chose to ignore the expression and take a moment to collect herself for what she knew must follow. Their marriage contract was to be sealed through sexual congress, an even more invasive little bit of magic the Ministry had added to the rings. It ensured that the pair wearing them would need to have sex soon after donning them, in order to provide a point of reference for the monitoring charms in the future. This, of course, meant that sometime this evening she would have to get naked and sweaty with the outwardly unflappable Lucius Malfoy. She nearly giggled at the thought of what he would look like in the throes of passion. She had never met a man who could remain cool and detached with a witch riding his broomstick. Somehow, she doubted Lucius would be any different.

"Would you like anything to drink?" His voice from behind his desk startled her; she hadn't realized he had moved from his spot beside the fire. She looked up, meeting his eye and taking the glass he offered in hand.

"Thank you."

"What's mine is yours," said Lucius bitterly.

"And vice versa," Lavender added. Lucius scoffed.

"Miss Brown, what is it you imagine I could want from you that I don't already possess?"

"I'd say having someone in the family who fought on the right side of the war would benefit you and your son a great deal."

"And doesn't Draco's match accomplish that? I'd say the former Miss Granger adds much to the Malfoy name."

Lavender shrugged. "If he ever manages to find her in America; I've heard she's a dab hand at hiding from Death Eaters." This time when Lucius sneered, his perfect teeth showed. Lavender laughed at the sight. "Oh you're too easy, Lucius," she trilled, leaning across the desk and placing her drink on it's surface as she brought her face to within inches of his.

"Miss Brown," he censured, as if he were warning her to be appropriate. How perfectly ridiculous, she thought, as if propriety could exist in a situation like this.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she corrected, noting the way his nostrils flared at the sound of the name. She sighed. "Look," she said, leaning back again to put a little more distance between them, "I know this must be difficult for you. I'm sure you must miss your wife terribly… but I'm not trying to take her place. She was the love of your life, and I know it isn't likely we will ever be as close as the two of you were, but if you'll just- Excuse me, but are you laughing?"

He was. The brute! His shoulders were shaking and his head was thrown back now as the laughter spilled from his open mouth and into the air.

"Oh Miss Brown," he managed between gasping breaths and gales of deep laughter, "You are precious."

It was Lavender's turn to shift uncomfortably as she waited for her new husband to compose himself enough to explain why he found her heartfelt reassurances so damned amusing. And he had better have a decent excuse, or she would take a page out of Hermione Granger's book and head for America.

O-O-O-O-O

The girl was amusing, at the very least she had that to recommend her. He had found over the years, that a man could put up with quite a lot if he found his wife at least a little tolerable. At long last, his laughter subsided and he was left wiping tears of amusement from the corners of his eyes.

"Narcissa Black was not the love of my life," he said. "That dubious honour has never been bestowed. Narcissa was my betrothed from infancy, and later my wife and the mother of my heir. The most familiar title I can bestow upon her is that of friend. I loved her, but not in the way you are imagining. Not everyone's marriage is a fairytale, Miss Brown, as you will no doubt have occasion to learn."

His explanation seemed to shock the girl almost as much as her earlier declaration had surprised him. Good. She shouldn't be so damnably self assured given the situation.

"I see," she said at last, after having evidently given his speech some thought. "In that case I see no reason for you to pretend at shyness. You'll be balls deep in me shortly, the least you can do is let me enjoy it."

He blanched at the boldness of her words and was just about to tell her how completely inappropriate he found her comments, when to his utter amazement she lunged at him from across the desk, practically clamboring up on it to get her arms around his neck as her lips crashed against his , taking them in a searing kiss unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. At first, he thought of protesting. The girl was acting like a brazen hussy, throwing at him as if she could hardly wait to be filled by the stiff length beneath his robes; it was hardly becoming… but then he was reminded by the ring now being crushed between his fingers in his tightly clenched fists, that this young woman kissing him so enthusiastically, was now his wife. During the long years of his marriage to Narcissa, through the birth of his son and the subsequent years of celibacy, how often had he wished for a wife as warm and as willing as the one in his arms now? Too many, answered a pleading voice in his head.

"Fuck it," he growled against her lips, and then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up over his desk and crushing her against him. Merlin but she was lush. Narcissa, though she had been beautiful, had not been endowed with the generous breasts and ample arse of Lavender Brown. Not that he had ever had much opportunity to explore his late wife's body.

A throaty moan from the woman in his arms brought Lucius back to reality and he groaned in response as one of his hands wandered of its own volition to her rear. Lavender's breath hitched as he touched her there and she continued kissing him with renewed vigor, her tongue slipping eagerly into his mouth to stroke his.

Bloody hell. He didn't think he'd ever experienced anything so erotic in his entire life as having Lavender's tongue in his mouth. It excited him and made him think of other warm, wet places on her body, just waiting to be explored. Narcissa had never kissed him like this, no one ever had. He felt like a boy, inexperienced for all that he was a man nearly fifty with a grown child of his own. Why had he never taken advantage of the myriad of women who had offered to make his marriage a little less lonely Because it was never done? Because an honourable pureblood man valued fidelity over satisfaction? What had he been missing all those years?

"Lucius, where's your bedroom?" Lavender had broken the kiss and was whispering into his ear. "Normally I'd be happy to be fucked across a desk, but as it's our first time together I thought perhaps-"

"Bedroom," echoed Lucius, cutting her off in his haste. And before she had a chance to say anything more he had scooped her into his arms and apparated them to the master's suite, directly on top of the bed.

"Oomph." Lucius fell back against the coverlet, breathless as Lavender leaned down to continue kissing him. The things she was doing with her mouth were a revelation. The way she moved her tongue against his, the way she pulled away to breathe and trailed kisses from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, all of it combined with the way her body moved above him. Merlin above, it was too much!

"Miss Brown… Miss Brown… Lavender!"

"Mmmm?" Her voice was throaty and breathless.

"Stop," he begged as she continued to grind her hips over his, straddling him and pressing herself against him intimately.

"But I don't want to," she whined, though her movements had stilled.

"Unless you wish for this encounter to end prematurely and without having accomplished our task, I beg you to stop."

She groaned, but she dismounted, rolling to the side and onto her back, where she began to breathe deeply.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sounding concerned and self-conscious. "I thought you'd done this before."

"Of course I've done it before," he snapped, but something in his tone must have caught her interest because Lavender rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her elbow as she peered at him. At last, over a full minute later, she spoke.

"Oh my God, you're a virgin!" she cried.

"Don't be daft!" snapped Lucius, sitting up beside her and turning his back to the girl. "I have a son. One who looks very much like me, thank you."

""I'm sorry," said Lavender, sounding contrite as she placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to insult you. I was just a little surprised that you aren't more… experienced."

Lucius scoffed. "When your wife's sexual preference lies in the same direction as your own, it is… difficult to gain the type of experience to which you are referring."

There was a long pause, and then the hand on his shoulder slipped forward to caress his chest and a set of truly magnificent breasts were pressed solidly against his back.

"I'm experienced enough for the both of us, I'd say," she whispered in his ear, and then she was licking the shell of that same ear and nibbling at the lobe until Lucius turned his head and gave her his lips. She devoured them hungrily and he drank in her eagerness, letting it fill him as he felt his length grow impossibly harder in his pants.

"Right," said Lavender, releasing the kiss and turning him to face her on the bed, "First things first." And she grabbed his hand, guiding it to palm her breast fully over the satin of her gown. Lucius groaned low in his throat and his hand flexed involuntarily around her breast. The hardened nipple in his grasp excited him immeasurably.

"Merlin," he said, and Lavender grinned, pulling him in for another kiss as her hands worked at the fastenings of his robes. She had them off of him in what seemed like no time at all, and began unbuttoning the dress shirt he wore beneath.

"You know, you can take off my dress if you like," she whispered, just as she slipped his shirt sleeved down past his shoulders.

Lucius cleared his throat and forced himself to remove his hands from her bosoms. He moved his fingers from her front to the back of her gown, where he found and quickly undid a zipper. The dress simply flowed off of her after that, the fabric slipping down to pool at her hips, revealing the tops of her creamy breasts, encased as they were in pale pink lace, and her bare abdomen, soft and smooth and ready to be stroked.

"Lovely," he managed to breathe, and Lavender seemed pleased by the reaction, if her renewed kisses were any indication. His whole body was aflame as she touched him. His pulse raced and everywhere her hands stroked bare skin, he sizzled. When her fingers began to stroke from his chest down his stomach and to the button of his trousers, his already rigid penis pulsed visibly.

"I'd like to take these off," she whispered, tugging at his belt loop.

"Yes. Merlin yes," he answered, lifting his hips as she unzipped his slacks and pulled them off of him together with his pants. The chill air of the bedroom hit him as he was exposed, causing his balls to tighten slightly before Lavender began to touch him, expertly handling his sack and sighing breathily when he closed his eyes tightly at the sensation.

"Lucius," she said his name softly, but he recognized the tone in her voice that meant she was about to ask him for something.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Would you kiss my breasts?" His eyes flew open wide, startled at her forwardness, though by this point he thought he really ought not to be.

He simply nodded in answer, letting her guide his mouth to her newly bared breasts. There, he dropped soft kisses across the silken flesh, letting his tongue dart out every now and again so that he could taste her. It wasn't until around the time she shimmied out of her dress completely that he worked up the courage to encase one of her pebbled nipples in his mouth. She gasped at the sensation, and as he began to suckle, she mewled, and the sound shot straight to his cock.

"Shit," he swore, letting go of her breasts as she removed her inquisitive hand from the member she had just felt pulse against her palm.

"Shhhh," she said, stroking his triceps and kissing his chest as she waited for him to calm. When he had, he ran his own hands from her arse up her spine and down again, an action which seemed to please her, as she arched back, offering him her breasts again.

"Suck them," she demanded, and Lucius was happy to oblige, filling his mouth with her tender flesh and revelling in the feel of them. He would have been content to spend the rest of the night with his mouth full of her succulent breasts, but she climbed onto his lap, pushing him to lean backwards against several stacked pillows, and he lost his latch on the pink, swollen nipple.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, her question little more than a breath. Lucius was shaking in anticipation now, but he nodded.

The moment she lowered her wet heat over his cock, he thought he might die. It was too much, too good. Had it always felt this wonderful? If it had, how had he managed to go without for so very long?

"Is that alright then?" Lavender asked, her voice strained.

Lucius nodded frantically, forcing his gaze open so that he could look into her eyes. Lavender smiled in response and began to move above him.

He saw stars. The velvet heat of her hot quim engulfed him, sliding up and down his throbbing shaft, stroking him with every subtly roll of her hips.

"Please," he whimpered, and she chuckled warmly, leaning towards him without stopping the cadence of her hips to kiss his neck and ear, whispering her response there in the sexiest voice he had ever heard.

"You're so hard," she told him, "So big. You feel so bloody amazing inside of me, Lucius. I think I could ride you like this forever and never get bored of it." As she spoke, her pace quickened and her words grew breathier. The angle of her hips grew just a bit sharper and her downward thrusts deeper. He could feel the end drawing near, could feel his balls tightening again as his cock began to twitch, and he was about to cry out, to warn her, when Lavender gave a sharp grind of her hips against him and closed her eyes tightly, letting her head fall forward against his shoulder.

And then he exploded, his entire world narrowing to the point at which they were joined. It was pleasure such as he had rarely felt, spilling into this warm, willing woman. This goddess. He groaned as he came, his hips thrusting up of their own accord as he emptied himself into her.

When it was over, neither of them moved for several minutes as the world- which just moments ago had held only the two of them- expanded, letting in the little discomforts which had been so completely drowned out.

"I need the loo," said Lavender at last, breaking the silence and dropping a small kiss on her new husband's brow as she shifted and his softening member slid from her body. As she retreated to the bathroom, Lucius watched her go, her pert arse moving pleasantly as her hips swayed, until at last she disappeared. Merlin above and Circe below, he thought, laying back in the bed, cock still wet with their combined juices. He was in trouble. When he had been informed of his match by the ministry he had thought it an annoying boon. A young wife, while often irrational, could be managed with pretty gifts and platitudes… but Lavender Brown… Merlin help him, but the girl had taken his measure immediately and now held a weapon far larger than any in his arsenal. She had him, lock stock and barrel, because he would be damned if he would go another twenty years without the pleasure she had showed him tonight.

"Lucius?" her voice rang from the other room and he started.

"Yes?"

"Bring me a towel, would you?"

"Yes, of course," he said promptly, and then pretended not to hear her chuckle from the other room.

Oh well, he thought, only one thing for it now. I'll have to beat her at her own game… and I'll start just as soon as she's done in the loo.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any non-rude reviews**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	9. Their Satisfaction (Number 8)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Their Satisfaction (Number 8)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Lemon/Angst**

 **Pairing: It's a secret !**

 **Trigger Warnings: Smut**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Their Satisfaction**

* * *

She giggled as they went through secret tapestries and clung to shadows to get to a place on the fourth floor without being seen by others. " _How will we have some time alone?" she asked in the halls when no one was around, "we almost got caught in my chambers." Her lover just smiled down at her and replied in a low husky voice, "I know of a place, it is blocked off so only one entrance and no one will be there. Meet me here at 10 tonight."_ They abruptly came to a stop in front of a mirror.

"Really?" she asked her lover when she thought he wanted to bring it with him, "we don't need any mirrors." she finished in a low whisper almost forgetting that students could be around.

The tall man in front of her pulled out his wand, tapped the mirror mumbled something and it moved aside to reveal a passageway; He turned around, smiled and stood back to allow her through.

She had her wand raised ready to give her some light to look around the closed off area then she noticed a soft glow on the walls. She glanced around the massive cave and saw a bed, with some elf wine and about 29 lit candles.

"Wow, this is beautiful. You did this for me?" She asked as she turned around to notice him standing behind her.

"Yes, a beautiful place for a beautiful person." He replied as he leaned down to slowly kiss her.

She always lost herself in his kisses that were so full of passion, the kisses started to turn harder and she let out a squeak when he picked her up and ran her into the wall. He put his hands into her hair and pulled it free to have it cascade down her back.

"Honestly," she said in a muffled voice as his mouth was still on hers, "do you think we are going to shag on a wall?" He pulled off her clothing as if it was offensive to him, he stopped and stared when he noticed that she only had underwear on. His eyes hungrily roamed her body, taking in every inch of her. She had wanted to please him with only one article of clothing on but started to feel self conscious when he didn't say anything. Her body wasn't like the young things that he spent some much time around. She opened her mouth to say something, before she could his eyes connected with her and she saw the hunger there. She buried her fingers in his long hair and kissed him to take her worries away.

He stopped kissing her to stare into her eyes, "What? You don't want to do it like the kids are these days?" He asked as he roughly pulled her underwear aside ripping it in the process and started to kiss her neck.

She scoffed at his words not noticing that he broke her underwear, "we are hardly kids and-" she was cut off by him inserting two fingers into her and using his thumb against her clit and producing deep earthy moans from her. When her moaning got lower and longer he stopped kissing her neck, looked her in the eyes pulled out his fingers and licked them. "You taste incredible," he uttered before he dropped to his knees and put his face between her legs.

She wrapped her legs around his head while his hands held onto her bum, she was having a hard time staying upright and managed to gasp out a sentence while his tongue was doing good wonderful things that she never wanted to end.

"I can't stay up right, please let's go to the bed." He didn't slow down just started to speed up faster, he grabbed his wand cast a sticking charm that stuck her to the wall and seemed to stabilize her, put a on hand on her bum and used the other to help his tongue out. "Oh sweet Merlin, please please, keep going. I am about to cum." she all but screamed when he gave her clit one last circle and a suck.

He stood up, grabbed her from the wall and carried her to the bed. Gently laying her down and hovering over top of her. "Now," He whispered into her ear as she pulled off his robe to reveal his already hard member, "let's fuck, I have been thinking about this all damn day." She took his member in her hands and started pump a few times to make sure he was nice and ready.

"Are you ready?" she asked through half closed eyelids, she hadn't quite recovered from her previous orgasm but wanted to indulge in another one and bring him to his. He didn't use words to answer her. He positioned himself at her entrance and thrusted into her, burying himself as far as he could go. He leaned forward to kiss her sweetly on the lips before he pulled back and rammed into her again. He could feel her nails bury deep into his back and knew she had left her mark. He slowed down his movements when her breathing sped up.

He whispered in her ear "Not yet darling, I'm not finished with you."

Goosebumps spread up her whole body as she continued to clung to his back. His movements were slow and precise as he lifted his head to her breast and gave her hard nipple a long slow suck, "Oh my Godric. I can't hold on much longer." she whimpered out, as she let her hands roam all over his body. He let go of her nipple and smiled at her, with no warning he started to roughly pump in and out of her, speeding up his movements. He kept grunting 'wet, warm, tight' with each thrust, she screamed when she finally let go and he let out a loud long moan that sounded like her name.

They couldn't meet up again for two weeks. She was giving detentions left and right and needed a sweet release that only he could give her. She could help take the itch off but only he helped give her what she wanted. He was an unexpected surprise. She had found her true love one time but never a true partner for her sexual experience. No, she didn't feel love for him. She was just thankful that he was there so she could take her frustrations out on his back. She remembered the first time it happened 2 months ago, and how surprised she was at his thoughtfulness.

 _When she saw him walked towards her she walked the other way, she didn't trust herself to be in the same room as him without anyone else present. She had just wanted to rip his clothes off. "May I help you?" she asked as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a classroom towards, he whipped around and she stood tall._

 _He leaned right in her face and replied, "stay away from my class."_

 _She turned her nose up and said "No way. You have to do better than that."_

 _He rolled his eyes frustrated then leaned forward to kiss her. She stood still for a few moments shocked at what he was doing. 'Oh well,' she thought as she kissed him roughly back. He pushed her against a desk and his hands started to roam all over her body. She gasped when his hands touched her clit over her clothing._

" _What are we doing?" she asked breathy eyeing his face._

" _Fucking," he replied only stopping his hands to push her underwear away and stick his long hard member into her._

 _She gasped and let her head fall back, she heard him murmur "It's been a long time." He thrusted into her 5 times and then he came. "Damn," He cursed. She groaned out loud frustrated that once again, as all her other sexual partners, she would have to make herself cum after he left. He replaced his dick with his fingers and started to pump in and out while his thumb worked on her clit. He whispered in her ear, "I won't leave until you have cum all over my hand." she gasped thankful that she had a thoughtful man this time around. He kept up a steady rhythm to his hand movements while his lips alternated between her lips and her neck. Right when he could feel her started to cum he whispered in her ear, "next time, you're going to cum all over my face." She let out a screamed as she let go all over his hands._

When they met about 4 times a week, it had all been hard and rough. Not that she minded but she did wanted at least one sweet sensual time before she called an end to this 'relationship.' She supposed that the last time they met behind the mirror was suppose to be slow but she knew that they had a hard time keeping their hands off each other. She had decided to let it only go on for one more month before she called it off. She didn't want to act like a silly school girl come summer and him find someone else.

"Excuse me…" she heard a little girl utter and she whipped around to find Marietta Edgecombe standing behind her.

Oh she had a horrible day, how dare he speak to her that way, she was bloody pissed and only her lover could help her now. She walked into his chambers and shredded her clothes off, lying on his bed. She got more frustrated at the fact that she had to wait, it was late enough where he could dismiss his classes and come to her. While she waited she grabbed her wand and conjured up a swing she saw in a magazine. Once she could hear him coming down the hall she jumped off the bed and quickly laid down on the straps positioning her feet in the stirrups. When her lover opened the door he let out a large gasp and let the papers he had in his hands fall to the floor. He didn't say a word as he quickly shed off his clothing and started to walk towards her staring at her whole body with hungry eyes.

When he reached her body, he bent down to kiss her thighs and positioned himself over her center and stared into her eyes. "This was a welcome surprise," he whispered as he entered her slowly, hissing when he completely filled her up, "if you keep doing this, I will keep you around forever."

He leaned towards her and kissed her before he started to rammed into her. The swing moved her back and forth, giving them new friction, she was desperate to dig her fingers on his back to make new scars next to his old ones. He seemed to know what she wanted as he stopped pumping into her, just circling his hips to move around inside of her and leaned forward to bury his face into her neck.

"Oh sweet circe, I like it when you do that. Keep going." she panted out as she dug her fingers further into his back. He pulled his face back panting, "I need to move." She nodded her head, ready to cum when he started to move. "Oh yes! Severus!" she screamed as she started to cum, he was pushed over the edge by her screaming his name as she came. He grunted and spilled his seed all inside of her.

She awoke with a start when she realized that she stayed the night with Severus, she never had before. She turned her head around to see if he was awake, if not she would slip out and write him a note that they couldn't see each other anymore. She locked eyes with him as he moved closer to her and entered her from behind, she whimpered still sore from the night before but she lifted her leg up to rest on his thigh. He didn't move at first, just kissing her shoulder blade and waiting until she spoke.

"Are you going to move?" she whispered taking his hand and kissing his fingers.

He nodded and started to move slowly, "I know this is our last time together, so might as well make it slow and sweet."

She nodded through her heavy eyelids and leaned back to kiss his lips, she then took his hand and started to suck on his fingers hoping to move him to go faster.

"Oh you little witch, I won't move faster, I will just draw it out." He whispered in her ear, using his other hand to tease her clit. She buckled against him and he used that moment to reposition his body over her so he could enter her even deeper and stare at her face. He stared at her eyes as he slowly moved in and out, he leaned down and kissed her slowly but firmly. He could feel that she was starting to lose control of her body so he started to pick up his thrusting and his mouth never felt hers. He captured her sweet cries in his mouth when she came, he was right behind her.

They laid in the same position for over an hour until she realized that she had to get up and get ready for the day. She moved him off of her and stood up, "I have to go, Cornelius is expecting me." She didn't look at him until she put her clothing back on and waved the swing away.

He stood up and made a move to walk over to her but she turned away and opened the door. She heard him say with a heavy heart "Goodbye Dolores" as the door clicked shut.

* * *

 **Reviews: Constructive Criticism**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	10. Pansy's Tiara (Number 9)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Pansy's Tiara (Number 9)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Drama/Mystery/Romance/Seventh Year AU**

 **Pairing: It's a secret !**

 **Trigger Warnings: Dark, Slavery, Talk of Torture, Adult Themes**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Pansy's Tiara**

* * *

The face she had become obsessed with over the past several months, had compromised _everything_ for, had questioned her beliefs for, was now contorted with pure rage and directed solely at her. She had wanted his attention, had sought it out and connived ways upon which he would notice her, as all the other boys in her year so easily did.

But this was _not_ a boy.

This wizard was _powerful_ ; beyond any power that even a Seventh Year should be capable of wielding. Even with the added aid of the slave bond.

Pansy had been spellbound by that power, but now, she was frightened.

"You wore my diadem, didn't you?" The question came out in a sneer that made her recoil. His voice was low and dangerous. She cowered on her knees before him, barely aware of their slaves watching silently on the sidelines. If she'd had any control, she would have at least sent Harry away. This was humiliating.

Her first response would have been to ask how he knew. It was the logical question. But it was also a silly one. Pansy had worn the tiara and now she couldn't plead stupidity. He could tell she'd worn it because she had _changed_ and though she tried to conceal it, knew it would be wise to, there was nothing Tom Riddle didn't take notice of.

She'd wanted _it_ , had spent many nights dreaming of ways to get him to notice her.

She certainly had it and now. She knew what it was like to have the full attention of Tom Marvolo Riddle focused squarely on her.

000

Pansy Parkinson navigated through the halls of Hogwarts in her uniform, which she had charmed to fit snugly to her figure. She proudly displayed her new badge jauntily on her jumper for all to see. She swept her long bangs behind her ear and cast a sideways glance at Draco, Blaise, and Theo who were perched loftily against the corridor but stood to attention when she passed by.

She smirked.

 _Oh, this will be a fun year_. She had thought Sixth was the best so far, but they were only getting better and better, and this would be her crowning year at Hogwarts.

"Congrats on making Head Girl," Millicent shouted out in passing.

"Thanks Millie," Pansy called over her shoulder.

The sound of heels clicking down the marble floor and quickly catching up to her signaled the arrival of her best friend.

"Olive," she greeted with a sideways smile, just before her friend fell into step beside her. "How was the rest of your summer?"

"Lovely, Pans." Olive threw her dark blond hair over her shoulder in a move Pansy knew made the guys swoon. "Though I wish your parents wouldn't have insisted on taking you to France for the rest of it. You missed out on so many parties!"

Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her blasted parents had thrown a wrench in her plans, insisting they stay at their villa for half of the break. She knew they had ulterior motives, finding Pansy a match chiefly among them. "Don't fret Olive, we'll make up for it this year."

"Oh, think of all the parties we can throw in the Heads Common room!"

Pansy scoffed at that, absently thrusting her books in Harry's hands, only just remembering her shadowing slave. "I doubt Tom Riddle would allow that, unfortunately." Pansy saw the annoyance flash through Olive's eyes. "But I'll work on it. You never know, he may come around."

"Well, you'll have to invite me up regularly anyway; we have to discuss the Founder's Ball! It will be the best Hogwarts has ever seen."

"It certainly will."

They came to a stop before a portrait of knights slaying a dragon. "You know," Olive started, looking thoughtful. "Tom Riddle would actually be kind of good-looking, if he had any sort of personality to speak of. And I don't mean simply charming the teachers."

Pansy nodded before breaking off with her friend and entering into the Head's Common Room. Her friend's words echoed in her head like a nagging Remembrall.

000

It turned out, Olive was right.

Tom could have ruled the school, not just the classroom, had he possessed any sort of personality at all.

He had enough charm when it came to the teachers, but back in their common room, he barely paid her any mind. Pansy was not used to that. Usually at the very least, she amused the boys of her age. Yet Tom did not bother with her unless it was to put her down.

So they fell into a routine. She would flounce around in her tightly altered uniform, trying in vain to get some reaction from the odd boy, and he would pay her no heed unless it was to throw an insult at her.

She sat lounging on a green divan in their common room leafing through the newest issue of _Witch Weekly_. All her friends were at the Quidditch Pitch but Pansy had stayed away as she couldn't stand the sport. Glancing over to where Tom sat perched behind a pile of books, his Mudblood handing him the next without him even needing to ask, Pansy thought even Quidditch was better than being here.

"Ugh, Tom," she whined. "Can't you send your blasted Mudblood away? She creeps me out, royally! Her eyes are so… _alert_. It's bloody off-putting. And that bushy hair, can't you put a softening charm on it or something?"

"Slaves don't need softening charms, Parkinson. Surely a Pureblood Princess like yourself would be knowledgeable in the ways of the Select." Tom closed his book and looked his Mudblood's way as if considering. "As for her eyes, well I'm sorry if even my Mudblood slave harbors more intelligence than you do."

Used to his disdain by now, Pansy remarked in a detached sort of way, "Tom, honestly, for a wizard as smart as you _allegedly are,_ you'd think you'd remember that I'm Head Girl with you, and therefore, your equal. Despite whether or not you think my family bought the position."

Tom looked up from his new book, in one of those rare moments he actually pierced her with the intensity of his gaze. It was at these times Pansy noticed her breath speed up and her heart flutter, but it was an odd notion and easily forgotten. "Parkinson, you could never be my equal."

Pansy met his gaze, for a moment lost in the dark and depthless blue of it. So different from the gray eyes she was used to in Draco. There was something about Tom's that seemed to have a magnetic pull.

Shaking herself, Pansy rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Tom."

000

He had mentioned before how useless she was in helping with any of their shared duties, chief among them setting the prefect patrols. Usually, she wouldn't rise to the insult, but this time, she wanted to show him she wasn't completely useless. And the Founder's Ball was _her baby_. If there was any reason to dedicate her time to something, this was it.

She went to his room in search of him, but of course he wasn't there; he _hardly ever was._ Only his wretched Mudblood, with her eyes downcast and trained on the floor was there. With an annoyed snort, Pansy turned to leave. She stopped herself as something sparkled and caught her eye.

Whirling around, she headed towards his bedpost, where something lay hanging from the black, ornately carved headboard.

The object that had caught her eye was a tiara of sorts. Wrought in a lovely silver, it was encrusted with gleaming multi-faceted gems that caught the light just so. Sparkling diamonds and sapphires of the deepest blue reminded Pansy of Tom's eyes at their most intense. The largest of the gems was an oval shaped sapphire, sitting over a depiction of an eagle. Just under that, she could barely make out a text carved in the silver. _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure._ She was entranced by the delicate crown. She wondered if Tom would mind if she wore it to the Founder's Ball.

With inquisitive fingers, she reached for the object.

She thought she heard an intake of breath and spun her head around to look at Tom's slave. The Mudblood was still standing immobile, staring at the floor.

That was silly—slaves _didn't react_.

Brushing it off as maybe it being her own breath she heard, she reached for the tiara and grasped it in her hand.

Immediately, it was as if her thoughts had suddenly cleared and the most prominent goal in her life became to place the object on her head.

She did so.

000

Normally, Professor Yaxley droned on in History of Magic and the class was never ending. This time, she found herself perking to attention.

"Headmaster Slughorn has been told by the Select that we must talk more about the Wizarding War." The class groaned in unison. "Quiet up! As you all know, the most important thing to remember is that Minister Grindelwald defeated the dark wizard known as Dumbledore, and founded the Select in the aftermath of the war. He enslaved all Mudbloods and Half-bloods, assigning each Pureblood witch and wizard their very own slave, sometimes more than one, of which they are bonded to thanks to the slave bond. Now, does anyone know what the slave bond does?"

"It bonds the slave's magic to our own, the magic _they have stolen_ , and directs it back to us—the rightful owners. It also reinforces the orders we give to our slaves so that they must obey."

"Excellent job, Neville. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, your assignment today will be to write a three foot essay on the war and the results of it."

Pansy couldn't remember a time when she had paid such apt attention to a class.

000

"Tom," Pansy queried, sitting on her favorite divan in their shared common room. "If the slaves have stolen our magic, how come they do not use it against us?"

Tom looked up surprised by the question, but ever one to partake in an intellectual conversation, he answered readily. "Because Minister Grindelwald's slave bond is automatic with birth, it cannot be broken, besides with lycanthropy."

"But, Ginevra was reading something at lunch, something in the Prophet. It had talked about a rebellion. How can the slave's rebel if their magic is bound to us?" She shot a worried glance over at Harry and Hermione, standing like they always did against the walls as if they were part of the furniture.

"That's because it's a Pureblood and a werewolf heading the rebellion. Sirius Black is a Pureblood through and through, the Ministry used to admit that, but now they gloss it over. Remus Lupin is a Half-Blood, but he is a werewolf and that breaks the slave bond."

"Tom, I don't understand why slaves would want to break the bond. I thought they understood their positions in life."

Tom smirked in response. "Have you ever seen the way the Weasley's treat their Mudbloods? They torture and use them for target practice."

Pansy _did_ remember. How had she not thought of that before?

"Parkinson, why so suddenly interested in politics? I've never seen you do your HoM homework before."

 _Why am I so interested? And when did I start thinking of Tom's slave as Hermione?_ "I'm not sure Tom."

Tom only nodded, but his eyes bored into hers.

000

 _The Order of the Phoenix strikes again_ , the heading said. Pansy went on to read that the Order was credited for liberating a Muggle factory. Pansy didn't need to ask why it was Muggles that were being liberated and not Mudbloods or Half-Bloods. Muggles were not strictly tied to the Select by the slave bond.

Pansy looked at Harry who stood against the wall of the Great Hall. He was like a fixture, an inanimate object that did not move or think for himself. But was that really the case? Behind the blank face, were there thoughts and feelings? Passion?

Things had been this way for so long, Pansy had never questioned them. But now, with resound clarity, she realized she was starting to.

000

The common room was empty again, which was all the better to Pansy. She'd actually remembered to meet Olive and Millie for Hogsmeade weekend, but they had looked at her as if she'd grown three heads when she wanted to stop inside _Tomes & Scrolls_.

Now that she was back in her dorms, she deposited her new purchases on the table in their shared common area. Some of Tom's books fell to the floor in the process and she hurried to pick them up.

Carefully handling them, she absently read through the titles. _Uncommon Potion Ingredients, Magical Maladies, Mysteries of the Fae,_ and _Magick Moste Evile._ Suddenly, these titles looked much more interesting than the works she'd selected.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she tried to open the last volume and was not surprised to find it was warded shut. _Does he really think I'm so daft I can't break a simple ward?_ She expected much more from the Head Boy. She broke the ward with ease and then opened the book to where it was place-marked.

 _Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction_ …

Her eyes widened the more she read.

000

"Congrats on the match Pans, though I had thought it would be Draco."

Pansy just nodded and muttered something resembling thanks. She rushed on to the dorms, her thoughts in turmoil, desperately seeking the comfort and relative solitude of the Head's dorms.

"Blast-ended skrewt," she snapped to the portrait.

The knight muttered something about etiquette but Pansy was already too far off to hear. When she entered the common room, she was appalled to find Tom sitting there. He had the audacity to look nonchalant. _Of all the times for him to be here, when he's gone so often, why now?!_

Her horror quickly morphed into rage and she stopped dead in her tracks to stare daggers at him, the danger evident in her gaze.

When he finally closed his book to look up at her with a sigh, she blurted it out before she could stop herself. "Why?"

" _Why_ what?"

"Don't play stupid, I'm sure you were paramount in making the match with my father. I want to know why. You've made your disdain for me quite clear, why then, have you saw fit to request my hand, without even telling me?"

"You can't possibly be so naive to think it has anything to do with my feelings towards you?"

Pansy said nothing, her glare prompting him to go on.

"As you know, I have no family of my own, no family connections. Obviously, it would bode well for me to have Slytherin's Princess, from the notable Parkinson family, as my wife."

"I just can't believe you would go behind my back, that you wouldn't make your intentions known to me first. What if I don't want this?"

"You're a Pureblood witch," he said simply. "Since when do you have a choice?"

Pansy's rage became suffocating until she finally spun on her heel and fled the stifling confines of the room. He was right anyway—she'd already accepted the betrothal bracelet.

000

Pansy felt slightly like she was losing her grip on reality. She would lose time and have odd dreams of dark chambers. In the mornings, Tom would offer to walk her to class. He would say he wanted to show her something. She would always decline. She didn't know why, but she was fearful of it. Despite her fear, she found herself quickly growing enamored with the dark and begrudgingly handsome wizard she not only was having to live with _now_ , but would have to live with in the future.

000

She bumped into him on the way to the library. He hadn't noticed her; he was talking to Professor Prince, the Potions-Master. Professor Prince was laying into him. Pansy pressed herself against the stone wall so she could overhear, unnoticed.

"You're responsible for organizing and logging the potions, Riddle. You may be the Headmaster's favorite, but that doesn't mean I won't bring my concern of your negligence to him. If I see any more of my aconite disappearing-"

"You won't," Riddle answered, honesty written all over his face. "I was tutoring a Third Year, but I see now the effort is futile. He's wasted more batches of Color-changing Draught than I can count."

"Very well, Tom. See that he wastes no more."

Pansy hurried off to the library remembering her initial task and chronicling that exchange for later. Something itched at the corner of her brain. Tom had said he had no family to speak of, his mother, Merope Gaunt, dying in childbirth. It was his father, Thomas Riddle, that not much was known.

In the book she located on Pureblood ancestry, she was able to deduce that the Riddles were a branch off of the Peverell tree and widely accepted as a Pureblood name, though they had died off as had the Peverells. _Convenient_ , she thought.

In her experience, the lack of information was enough to cause skepticism. Thomas Riddle, the son of Saoirse Peverell. Innocent enough, except…

Pansy racked her brain, not having remembered trying to think so hard on a given subject— _ever_. Jayden Peverell had been a victim of lycanthropy, hadn't she read that? Flipping back to the page she looked it over once more. Yes, Saoirse's father had been a werewolf, which meant nothing but an Azkaban sentence. So then why was she still looking at it? _Sentenced to Azkaban in 1943_ , she read. If he was sentenced then, how could Saoirse have been born in 1951? Following that train of thought, how could Thomas have been born in 1973?

There was, of course, one solution. There was no Saoirse. Which meant there was no Thomas.

Riddle was a Half-Blood.

000

She watched Tom closely the next few days. He still seemed to want to get close to her and offered to walk her to classes. Pansy had the feeling he wanted to get her alone, outside the school wards, maybe. _Probably so he can be free to practice dark magic_. In spite of this, she still found herself enthralled by the Half-Blood.

 _Harry's a Half-Blood, can a Half-Blood really be that good of a wizard? It doesn't make sense, maybe the Select doesn't realize._ In a moment of lucidity, she realized they probably _did_ know, and they kept it secret.

She burned the book she read, with precise fiendfyre on the next Hogsmeade trip, out of Hogwarts wards.

She told Madam Pince it had been destroyed thanks to a hair curling charm gone wrong. The old hag bought it. She wasn't sure why she covered for Tom.

000

Now that her eyes had been opened, she began to notice things. Imperceptible things to most, but her sharp eyes caught them. The looks that would linger a second too long the rare times Tom ordered Hermione about, the way in which he never scolded neither Harry or Hermione—imperceptible, but telling just the same.

Still, Pansy could not prevent the feelings that arose when her thoughts turned to Tom. Where before, she had thought him a tragically handsome bookworm, she now saw him as the calculating, powerful, dark wizard that he was.

She knew it would be wise to keep her mouth shut, _better for her_ , but she had spent hours thinking about it, during the insufferable silence between the four of them, and she decided she would not be happy on the fringes. _I hope this is the right way to go about it…_

"Two Half-Bloods, a Mudblood, and Pureblood. What an unlikely group we make."

Tom's previously inscrutable façade cracked to reveal surprise, before it quickly warped into something horrifying. She felt the force of his aggressive power crackling around her in a threatening sort of way; it brought her to her knees. Harry and Hermione looked shocked and absently, Pansy marveled at this—she'd never before seen _them_ express emotion.

The face she had become obsessed with over the past several months, had compromised _everything_ for, had questioned her beliefs for, was now contorted with pure rage and directed solely at her. She had wanted his attention, had sought it out and connived ways upon which he would notice her, as all the other boys in her year so easily did.

But this was _not_ a boy.

This wizard was _powerful_ ; beyond any power that even a Seventh Year should be capable of wielding. Even with the added aid of the slave bond.

Pansy had been spellbound by that power, but now, she was frightened.

"You wore my diadem, didn't you?" The question came out in a sneer that made her recoil. His voice was low and dangerous. She cowered on her knees before him, barely aware of their slaves watching silently on the sidelines. If she'd had any control, she would have at least sent Harry away. This was humiliating.

Her first response would have been to ask how he knew. It was the logical question. But it was also a silly one. Pansy had worn the tiara and now she couldn't plead stupidity. He could tell she'd worn it because she had _changed_ and though she tried to conceal it, knew it would be wise to, there was nothing Tom Riddle didn't take notice of.

She'd wanted _it_ , had spent many nights dreaming of ways to get him to notice her.

She certainly had it and now. She knew what it was like to have the full attention of Tom Marvolo Riddle focused squarely on her.

"Yes," she managed to croak, her voice tremulous. "I did. And I've known for a while."

"Yet you didn't alert the Select, why?" He seemed to have regained some semblance of control in his posture, but his magic still pressed against her angrily.

"I…I can be loyal."

"Oh?"

"I've thought about things…I've thought a lot. I'm not sure I'm happy with how things are. I'm seeing now that I'm not the only one who questions the Select."

Three pairs of eyes were on her, scrutinizing her. She forced herself still under their probing stares, setting her jaw resolutely as she let them examine her. She would not display weakness, nor would she display doubt.

She met Tom's gaze and was mildly surprised to see the way he looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes were rife with darkness and the promise of danger. It was… _intoxicating_.

000

The day it finally happened was the day she sealed her fate.

In the glow of the fire, it was not only Tom with a stack of books in front of him, but Pansy as well.

Lately, Pansy had attacked her studies with a renewed vigor, digging into all she could get her hands on and making up for lost time. She and Hermione were working on a particularly difficult star chart, conversing easily with one another. Her hair was unkempt and her uniform not in its usual perfect state. Ironically, this had been when he'd finally taken notice.

"Today I'll take you," he informed her, saying the words as if letting her know when the next prefect meeting would be.

Pansy's breathing stopped. He wasn't even looking at her but her heart rate sped up as she was hit with an unsuspecting wave of lust that clashed horribly with the fear already gripping her. She looked to Hermione for support. The bushy-haired brunette merely raised her eyebrows.

Pansy nodded in response, working up the courage to speak. "In private, I hope." She was no prude and certainly no virgin, but Pansy was shocked to see Harry, from the other end of the couch, smirk at this. She suddenly had the wicked notion to send a stinging hex through the slave bond.

Tom's only answer was to get up and head for his room. Pansy began to clam up and she felt suddenly nauseous. She had often wondered what kind of lover he would be. Certainly not gentle, she pegged him more for the hard and fast type.

She had the feeling she was supposed to follow and did so shakily through her embarrassment. She'd slept with Draco in front of his slave, but at that point, she hadn't viewed them as people. Now that her eyes were opened and she'd gotten to know Harry and Hermione, she could not suppress the twinge of humiliation mingled with the fear and lust.

Resolutely, she followed Tom and tentatively entered his room.

She did not see him and was surprised when he crept up behind her, his fingers brushing lightly along the column of her shoulders. Pansy felt something twist violently in her stomach, making it abruptly hard to breathe. Her clothes were suddenly too tight and she ached for more of his touch.

He pulled her back more firmly against him and dropped his mouth to the sensitive pulse point on her neck. Pansy held back a whimper that quickly morphed into a moan when he bit her neck, marking her, and she felt his hands glide down her sides.

When he turned her around to face him, she was too filled with desire to worry about being embarrassed. He was like a drug and now that he was giving her more of him, she had to have it, like an addict. His kiss was erotic and deep, setting her on fire and making her soul sing. She was desperate for more and gave in eagerly as she threw her arms around him.

Her hips had fallen open, making room for him, and he pressed up against her, molding his body to hers. Excitement coursed through her veins at the feeling of his need, coupled with their magical energies—hers caressing his and his forever dominating and teasing hers.

Roughly, he shoved up her dress at the hips and yanked down her knickers. Pansy's fingers sought the flesh underneath his shirt as she pulled urgently at it. Her need was frantic and she begged and pleaded until she felt him poised and ready to fill her.

When he entered her _sofuckingfinally_ , she felt conscious thought slipping away as she basked in the glorious feeling of being so delightfully filled. All was still for a moment as nothing but the sounds of their rough breathing could be heard, when finally he blissfully, began moving, pistoning himself in and out of her in the most decadent pattern.

Then it was all scorching kisses and heated caresses causing liquid fire to shoot to her core. The decadent sensations caused tightening and tenseness in all the right places until Pansy felt as taut as a bow ready to spring. She was headed towards delirium and he was gladly taking her there with every snap of his hips.

As she quivered on the edge, between all the madness, a thought slammed forcefully into her mind. _Sex so good I can gladly die for it_. It should have invoked concern but she was too far gone to care. He edged her expertly to the edge and then, _sofuckingfinally,_ over it until she was spinning, careening, free falling—with nothing stationary to hold on to but him.

Afterwards, while she lay sated in his arms, she stared up at the silver crown that was still dangling from the bedpost.

"Can I wear it?" If she'd had more energy, she would have flinched at the husky sound of her voice.

Tom didn't need to ask what she was referring to. He merely inclined his head and Pansy reached for it, curious fingers closing over the silver metal, somehow warm to the touch. The emerald green sheet had pulled at her waist as she placed the tiara on her head.

She closed her eyes in wonder… _and lost time again_.

000

Pansy rushed back from the school's Slave Records office. She hoped no one had seen her and she hoped she'd made the right decision. _He_ had asked her to come with him again, after their date to Hogsmeade. She hadn't wanted to break from their group of friends to be alone with him though. She couldn't shake the feeling that her life was in danger, intensified tenfold after wearing the tiara. Her dreams were becoming more commonplace and feeling oddly prophetic. She needed to make herself indisposable to him.

000

The four of them were gathered in the Head's common room, eating lunch Hermione had collected from the house elves. They often gathered here instead of with their peers in the Great Hall. Pansy was particularly grumpy given another restless night spent dreaming. She hated that the others still withheld their trust from her, even after she'd proven she could keep quiet.

"So," Pansy began lightly. "Do you fuck her, too?"

She heard Harry's fork clatter to his plate and saw that Hermione and Tom had stopped eating. She waited patiently for a response.

"Sometimes," he answered truthfully. "When she's earned it."

Pansy's eyes widened at the admission. Somehow, she hadn't been expecting honesty. She wasn't sure what surprised her more—the truth, his willingness to admit it, or Hermione's response.

"Fuck you, Tom," Hermione said, leveling a dangerous glare at the haughty wizard. _My, my, she's as barmy as a Gryffindor._

Tom smirked, not the least bit embarrassed. "Now, now. We're all adults here, all Order members, for Salazar's-sake." He looked Pansy's way. "Well, most of us."

 _Out on the fringes,_ she thought dejectedly. _Disposable. That will simply never do._

"I'd like to be inducted in the Order," Pansy proposed softly.

"We'll see what Snape says. He and Bella have a _rather thorough_ vetting process." Tom smiled to himself at this and Pansy felt again like she was on the outs.

"Not thorough enough to have ousted you," Pansy said boldly as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Admit it; the Order is merely a means to an end for you."

"She has you pegged, mate," Harry said, shooting Pansy an appraising look.

She ignored his remark. "How did Snape and Bella escape the slave bond?"

"The Select had trouble at first, grandfathering some in." Tom's mask was erected once more and Pansy was irritated to find his face unreadable. "And I'm loyal… _for now_."

Pansy frowned as she turned her attention back to her food. She needed to make sure she stayed on Tom's good side and that he saw the value in keeping her.

000

It was the evening of the Founder's Ball. Pansy wore her Champagne-colored silk gown that fit like a second skin at the bodice but flowed effortlessly at the waist.

Tom looked incredible in his dark green dress robes—they were almost as dark as the night's sky. His black locks fell loosely over his eyes and Pansy admired the way she had ruffled them earlier in the evening when he had brought her to ecstasy once again.

It was funny how Pansy had once looked forward to the Founder's Ball. This was supposed to be her crowning year. She and Olive had stayed up late in the Slytherin dorms making plans since Third Year for this very evening. Now, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd spoken to Olive.

Tom had consumed her life and all the restless nights spent planning, dreaming, and thinking left her on edge.

"A toast," Tom suggested bringing two crystal glasses of Champagne. "To the halfway point of the final year."

"Yes," Pansy said, snatching the glass. "It's already halfway through the term and you've still kept me in the dark about the Order. It's not like I haven't proven myself time and time again by not sharing your secret with the Select."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. "You haven't done me any favors, pet. It isn't as if Minister Grindelwald doesn't already know about my Half-Blood status. Do you really think you're the only person that could notice such an egregious slip? It was the Select's attempt at covering for a Half-Blood orphan."

Pansy felt her jaw drop. _How in Merlin's name could the Select know, and be fine with a Half-Blood attending Hogwarts? It defies their own rules!_ Her mind was racing but instead she could only gasp out a response. "How?"

"So silly and so naïve, my betrothed. You already know how corrupt the Select can be. The Minister does what suits his best interests. The Select thrives on slavery but they don't really believe the rhetoric they feed the masses. Finding a reason to bend Mudbloods and Half-Bloods to the will of the Purebloods is all about power and strengthening the power of a select few. Of course there are exceptions."

"But, I thought you were loyal to the Order?"

"Like I said, everyone has their uses. I'm watched carefully—my owls, communication lines, the spells that leave my wand, by the Select and I deplore it. Yet they find nothing suspicious in my actions because I'm smarter."

"So then how can you communicate with the Order?" She took a deep drink of her Champagne in an attempt to calm herself.

"That's simple, pet. Hogwarts wards are strong, but my ancestor built a way around it. I'm free to do as I please in my Chamber—where I'll be taking you now."

Her vision blurred and she only barely registered the sound of her glass breaking as it clattered to the marble floor. Her knees gave out and blackness crept up her mind as she felt weightless in her dark wizard's arms. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be drugged.

000

When she came to, she had no idea where she was or if she was even inside Hogwarts any longer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry and Hermione working over a cauldron. She tried to lift her body up but found her hands were bound and she fell promptly back to the stone floor. Panic seized her, and she realized she was in quite the bind. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a solution, going over of all the hints and clues she'd picked up so far.

She forced her body limp as she attempted to calm herself. _Everything will be fine; this is what you've been preparing for! The last test and you're ready._

She tensed with nervousness once more when she saw Tom to the left of her.

"Hello, pet," Tom said fingering something shiny and sparkling in his hands. "Gracious of you to join us."

"Tom, listen-"

"Not Tom," his voice rose several octaves. "I'm _not Tom_ down here. Hermione, if you'll please inform our guest."

Hermione looked Pansy's way, breaking from the meticulous task before her. "You're in the presence of Lord Voldemort."

Pansy gulped, attempting to keep the fright from her eyes.

Tom brandished the tiara in front of her, it's sapphires catching the light cast from the sconces that dimly illuminated the corridor. "You see this darling? It's the diadem you're so enamored with."

"I wasn't-"

"Hermione told me the way you had worn it, had left it atop your head for an hour, just staring. And you did it again with me, or don't you remember?" Pansy frowned, had it been an hour she'd worn it? That couldn't be. "Rowena Ravenclaw must have been an exceptional witch that her wisdom charm could have worked on _even you_. Why, towards the end, you'd even made Hermione-worthy connections— _almost_."

 _Towards the end…he means to kill me! To do to me what that book described. That's all the use I am to him. That…and Harry._

"It's poetic really. I can think of no better person to make this horcrux with."

"It'll be a waste, Tom, er… _Lord Voldemort_. To use my death to make _that_ when there are such better uses for me." Pansy hated the way her voice came out hoarse.

"You're a good fuck, but nobody's that good."

She ignored the jibe, continuing on resolutely. "You can use some Muggle tramp or something, it doesn't matter. But not me, I can be so much more useful."

"Rule number one, keep your circle small. There isn't room for you, Pansy. I'm sorry."

"You can make room," she spat out angrily, feeling bolder now. "I know what you're doing—what the Order wants from you—I've figured it out."

"Oh?"

"You're to make a potion, I'm not sure exactly, but it will mimic the effects of lycanthropy, like a Muggle antibiotic. More importantly—it will break the slave bond because the taker will register properties of a beast."

Three pairs of eyes were glued on her. Tom was quiet for only a moment. "Like I said, Rowena was an exceptional witch."

Pansy trudged on. "You'll sell the potion to the Order, the instructions of how to make it—it's your _in_."

"As impressed as I am by your remarkable deductions, how does any of this help you?"

"You're missing something, aren't you? A rare ingredient you need to make the potion. I admit, I don't know what it is, but I know it can be found near fairy knolls."

Tom said nothing, a flicker of annoyance passed through his gaze. Encouraged, Pansy continued. "I know it was a lie when you said you wanted the benefit of my family connections. I know what you really want is the rights to Harry, who when I die, you, as my betrothed, would inherit. But there are other uses a Parkinson has other than _mere connections_." She paused to get her breath, noticing with a spark of hope that she still had everyone's attention. "I can trace my lineage to the Rookwoods."

"Rubbish," Hermione said dismissively. Pansy shot her a worried glance. _Lady Voldemort_ , her mind screamed. Hermione already had a place; it was time to carve one for herself.

"The family is said to be the first race of witches and wizards started by the fae queen herself."

Hermione set her hand on her hip looking cross. "A fairytale."

"I've always been sensitive to all things Fae, I'm sure I can find your fairy knoll."

"That could be useful," Tom admitted. His eyes were boring into hers and Pansy felt the brush of Legilimency. She let him see the truth of her words.

"There are spells for that," Hermione argued. "We don't really need her."

Tom looked pensive. _Now for the finale._ "That isn't all. If I die, Harry's contract won't go to you, Tom."

Hermione and Harry looked alarmed at this. Tom merely smirked it off. "That's silly, you would need to make a formal claims request at the Records Department to break the succession…that is-," Tom narrowed his eyes and turned to her incredulously. "You've already done so." It was a statement, not a question. He already knew the answer.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Pansy said, looking over at the black-haired wizard. "My life matters too."

"Who will the contract go to?" asked Hermione.

"I've donated his contract to the Select in the event of my death, a common practice among Purebloods."

"Salazar's-rod," Tom swore. "That does present a problem."

"I know you can still get him back once the potion is finished, but it will be more difficult. And why would you want to? Especially when you have a willing accomplice in myself?"

Everyone was quiet for a moment as they considered her words. Tom was the first to break the silence. "You're as paranoid as I am. Ever the cunning Slytherin," Tom said, shooting her a look of approval. Even though he was on the verge of murdering her, Pansy could not help but preen under the compliment.

"Just for the record," Harry said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I was against it from the start."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I hope there aren't any hard feelings," Hermione said evenly. "You've been a silly little bint every single year thus far. You had to prove yourself. I for one will be pleased to have another girl around. What do you say, Tom?" He inclined his head ever so slightly and Pansy felt the weight lift from her shoulders. "Ginevra would make a much better horcrux-victim anyway, in my opinion."

"You only say that because she tortures your friend Dean." Tom waved his wand lazily, breaking Pansy's binds. She got hastily to her feet. "We can't get personal, Hermione."

"Oh, like you didn't get personal when you wanted Pansy for the diadem?" The fiery brunette shot back.

Harry thrust out a hand for Pansy to take. "Welcome to the Death Eaters, Pans. You've always been one of the, er, decent mistresses."

"Glad I could make your time in captivity more bearable."

"I may keep my inner circle small," Tom said, taking Pansy's arm in his. "But I promise you will see Death Eater numbers swell before the decade is up. Now I suppose we'd better get back to the Founder's Ball, since we are the ones hosting it."

"You two have all the fun," Hermione jested.

Pansy allowed herself a sigh of relief. The position of Lady Voldemort might be taken, and she may never be Tom's equal, but she still managed to carve herself a spot by her Lord's side. _Lady Riddle would do nicely_.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	11. 90 Days (Number 10)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: 90 Days (Number 10)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M for Language**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst/General**

 **Pairing: Theo Nott/Luna Lovegood**

 **Trigger Warnings: Language**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **90 Days**

* * *

To say Theodore Nott was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. When the wards had alerted him to the presence of someone apparating in the manor he hadn't thought much of it, it was the holidays and Draco often popped over with one of his parents. He walked to the room they used solely for apparating and flooing but was shocked when he was met with the eyes of a dead woman. Or at least, a woman who was _supposed_ to be dead.

He had been just five years old when his mother had died, she had had an incurable bout of Dragon Pox, nothing anyone did could save her. She was gone before he even got to say goodbye. He remembered much of the events that followed, the funeral was sombre but he didn't cry, men didn't cry his father had told him. He had watched as his mother was buried in the ground, placed dirt on her coffin like the bigger men did. She was dead. She was _supposed_ to be dead.

But she was stood in their come and go room like she belonged there and, he supposed, she did. To a degree.

"Moth- _mum_?" he asked as his voice broke. He didn't know what was going on, how the woman that stood before him was real only that she was.

"Yes son, it's really me."

It turned out that Calla Nott had been hiding from her husband in the muggle world for the past decade, though she insisted his father knew where she was. The funeral was all his idea, he had had appearances to keep.

So why was she back? She had fled her abusive spouse fair enough, no woman should have to deal with what Calla Nott had gone through but she made one mistake. She left her son behind.

She tried to explain her actions. The laws dictated that Theo was his father's property, he was the heir afterall. She had no say, no rights. All she could do was get herself out and hope for the best.

So why was she back now? Why after all this time?

He asked, he wasn't really expecting an answer, already too dumbfounded by the events to even think a coherent thought.

But when he heard the words "I met someone" "He's the exact opposite to your father" and "You will love him" his head snapped back to reality.

It turned out his mother, his supposedly _dead_ mother who had hidden with muggles for the past ten years had somehow come across Xenophilius Lovegood and the pair had struck up a friendship that had lead to something more. There was no divorce in the Wizarding world and his mother would remain Calla Nott until she died but the Lovegood's weren't known for being ones to follow what society dictated. His mother and Xenophilius had had a blessing ceremony and bound their souls to one another. It was as close as marriage as they would ever get.

It put Theo in a bit of an awkward situation since he was already falling madly in love with his now step-sister. Oh fuck!

oOoOoOo

Theo and Luna continued to stay as close as they were, despite their differing houses and obvious war affiliations they were attracted to one another like bees to honey. They would eat together outside each day or study in the library, they spent every minute of their spare time in Hogwarts together since he saw her on the train her first year. They were so close that people often referred to them as boyfriend and girlfriend. But they weren't. He wasn't sure why, something always stopped him from taking that step and asking. She was a pureblood and he knew his father would eventually be thankful that he had at least chosen a girl of whose blood was pure enough despite where her family's loyalties lay. But he was too scared to ask, preferring to stay friends lest he ruin what they had,

It didn't stop how he felt about her though.

When he came of age his mother asked him to move in with them at the Lovegood house. He thought about it for a while before accepting, he already spent so much time there it only made sense to make things permanent. Luna was still in school for another year but she came home every holiday. He missed her desperately.

Theo had always been fascinated with Dragons as a little boy and with nothing else to do he threw himself into researching them all he could. He spent the next year making trip after trip around the world learning every small detail he could about the beautiful creatures but always made sure to be home in time for the school holidays to see Luna.

When she was home they were even more inseparable than usual, they grew closer every day and often barely left Theo's bed where Luna would find herself each night. They would sit up and talk about their love of crazy and wild creatures. He would listen as Luna talked for hours on end about things he didn't even know existed. They would play guitar and write nonsensical songs about the most mundane things ever. It was beautiful and at the same time destroying.

Things came to a head after Luna graduated. Theo made sure his trip was done in time to see his best friend and step-sister graduating. He stood proud as she received top marks in nearly all of her subjects, and especially in Care of Magical Creatures and he clapped as loud as her father did when it was her turn to walk across the transfigured stage.

They took a few months each before they decided what they wanted to do, Theo had money and lot's of it. He didn't need to do anything. He could just as well live off the Nott vaults for all he wanted but that was never his destiny. He wanted to work with dragons. The problem was there were no open spots on any dragon reserves in or around Britain. The only place he knew with an open space was Romania and he had only found that out because Luna had told him and Ron had told her.

He decided not to pursue it. He couldn't be that far away from her for so long, even the thought made him nervous. Luna tried to push him on the matter but he wouldn't budge. He knew it was ridiculous, knew he was holding a flame for a girl he never should have developed feelings for in the first place but he couldn't help the attraction. She was everything. She was light. She was untainted and kindhearted and she was the moon to his stars and he had fallen for her like one might fall into an open well. Fast and hard.

He hadn't been expecting her to kiss him. Years ago he'd talked himself into thinking his feelings were all one sided and so when they were lay on his bed one night after she had graduated, him looking at the ceiling to his room where stars shined brightly in the dim light and her on her stomach looking down, watching him; he had been caught off guard when her lips met his.

He turned slightly, his hand raising to cup the side of her face as he kissed her back with every cell and fiber he had in his body. When they pulled apart minutes later, panting deeply trying to catch their breaths, Luna looked him in the eye and said "I love you Theodore Nott."

Theo wasn't sure why he did it but he panicked, he jumped off the bed almost pushing Luna over and started to pace frantically. The kiss, Merlin _the_ _kiss_. It had been everything and more and Luna, she had said those three words he wanted to hear more than anything else in his entire life but it was wrong, she was his sister and she couldn't love him. Not like that. Not like he wanted. He apparated out and to Nott manor, taking the first portkey to Romania the next day and, after interviewing for the job as Dragon Handler he was offered the position. He took it readily and threw himself into his work.

He worked day in day out, took what overtime he could get his hands on to take his mind off of the blonde goddess he had left at home. It hurt, knowing what he had done. It was killing him but it was for the best. It's not like he was any good for her without the whole brother and sister thing anyway. He was the son of a death eater and she was the moon.

oOoOoOo

It took eleven years, eleven lonely years for Theo to return home and even then he only did it when he could no longer ignore his father's owls every day.

He portkeyed to Nott manor with all the grace of the pureblood prince he was raised to be and greeted his father as if he had just seen him the night before.

It didn't take long to get down to business and find out why he had been called home, Thoros Nott didn't mince his words. He was dying. He didn't have long. There was no way to save him. He had six months at most and if he lasted that long he would be lucky. He needed to get his affairs in order and Theo was the heir, he needed to learn the ropes of all that came with it.

What Theo had never known before was that for him to inherit his rightful fortune he had to be married. And he had to be married before his thirtieth birthday or he would forfeit his entire inheritance. Or, his mother would be the one to inherit the lot.

Theo was shocked and very annoyed at finding out there was a clause, he had never been told of such a thing in all the time his father had been 'preparing' him for the role though, if truth be told he had been supposed to marry Daphne Greengrass when he came of age but instead he had refused and buggered off to Romania to wrangle dragons. And now he was faced with the news that his mother might get her hands on his ancestors' galleons. It's not that he didn't love the witch, in fact that was the problem, he loved her more than he wanted. More than he should considering what she'd done. He didn't trust her though and their relationship was strained since he still hadn't forgiven her for leaving him behind. He really didn't want her to get her hands on the money even if she was still married to his father.

Ninety days. That's how long it was until he was to turn thirty. Ninety days he had to find a witch who would bind herself to him for the rest of forever in exchange for unlimited access to his family's fortune.

He was screwed.

oOoOoOo

When Draco, Blaise and Pansy found out their old friend was back in the country they dragged Theo to The Leaky Cauldron for a night on the piss while they celebrated his return and mourned his predicament.

Things had been going as well as to be expected, they drank shot after shot of Firewhiskey while Blaise checked out the pickings (which were slim since most of the witches were either really old or fresh out of Hogwarts). Theo was just about to decline a sixth shot when he saw a familiar flash of bright blonde hair. He groaned, drank down a shot and chased it with another two.

His friends didn't miss the change in Theo's behaviour and though none of them had been privy to exactly what had happened between the pair when they saw Luna things began to click into place. They'd all been aware of the strange friendship the two had in school and believed there was more going on than Theo would admit but they never pushed...too far.

"So I take it you didn't keep in touch" Draco surmised as he watched Theo squirm.

"Hardly"

"She's your sister"

"Step-sister. And that was kind of the reason."

"I don't understand"

Theo sighed and drank another shot before Luna spotted him. She walked over to his booth much more confidently than he knew she was and placed her drink on the table as she greeted her step-brother for the first time in over a decade.

"It's nice to see you're home Theodore, how long until you have to get back to those beloved dragons of yours?"

Theo cringed, this was so unlike Luna. "I'm not sure actually." Was all he said.

They were both curt and polite, nothing at all like their normal selves.

"Do mum and dad know you're home?"

Theo winced, he hadn't thought to see his mum though in all fairness he still held a grudge over her leaving when he was a child. "Not yet. I'll go and see them tomorrow."

Luna forced a smile before she said "I might see you there"

It was evident he wouldn't be seeing her there, _if_ he went.

She walked off after that and Theo emptied the rest of the table's Firewhiskey down his throat as his friends stared at him.

"Well that was-" Pansy started.

"Awkward?" Blaise supplied.

"I was thinking fucked up." Draco interjected.

After that Theo decided it was time to get well and truly shitfaced, he ordered the most expensive and strongest Firewhiskey the bar stocked as he tried to ignore just how much more beautiful Luna had become with age.

Merlin he hated himself, he hated himself because he still wanted her. Still craved to be around her. Was still attracted to her like she was the honey and he was the bee.

He tried not to watch as she sat with Ginny and Hermione and they drank their drinks. He tried not to notice how toned she was or how amazing her legs looked. He felt a stab in his chest when he _did_ notice that her smile didn't reach her eyes like it used to or when her laugh sounded so ...false.

Pansy left first, she had some Weasley brats to get home to afterall. When Theo had found out that Pansy, Pansy Parkinson had married Ronald Weasley he and Charlie Weasley had laughed themselves silly for the best part of an hour before a Chinese Fireball nearly had their heads off.

Draco left next and Blaise wasn't far behind before Theo was all alone. He drank and drank, his tolerance was high since there wasn't a lot else to do on the reserve other than drink and besides, he usually had a lot he wanted to forget. But tonight he wanted to forget _everything_.

oOoOoOo

When he woke the next morning Theo had no idea where he was for a while. He was in a strange bed in a strange flat that was decorated rather peculiarly. Then it suddenly dawned on him when he saw a picture on the bedside table.

He was in Luna's flat. In Luna's bed and the picture was one of them when they were younger. He groaned, clearly frustrated with himself for getting so drunk that Luna had had to take him home.

"Is everything okay?" Luna asked as she popped her head around the doorway.

"No" He groaned."Why am I here"

"You were drunk, I didn't know where you were staying."

"Drunk was the point."

"Too drunk to apparate?"

"I would have been fine"

"You would have splinched yourself"

Theo ignored Luna as he checked he was clothed (thanking Salazar he was) before he got out of the bed and walked into the livingroom.

It turned out Luna lived with Ginny Weasley, both witches were single and while Ginny was playing for the Holyhead Harpies Luna was running The Quibbler by herself. Theo was very impressed.

He showered and took a sober up potion while Luna cleaned his clothes and when he was washed and no longer throwing up the three sat around the breakfast table to eat.

Tensions were eased slightly since the night before and Theo was able to talk to Luna without it being too awkward. Eventually Ginny excused herself for quidditch practice leaving the pair alone.

"Do you have to go?" Luna asked as he stood idly in her kitchen

Theo swallowed hard as he heard the hint of desperation in her voice. He wanted to make it better but he couldn't. He stayed though, it was the least he could do.

oOoOoOo

Over the next few weeks Theo became a main fixture in Luna and Ginny's flat, he slept in their spare room because he didn't want to go back to living with his parents. He visited both parents most days and grew closer to Luna.

Though the air still hung thick with the past neither could bring themselves to talk about it.

It wasn't until a month later that Theo actually gave the idea to marrying someone any thought. When it became clear his father wasn't going to alter the clause that was the problem in the first place Theo finally gave into Pansy's demands to meet the 'perfect witch'

The 'perfect witch' turned out to be Lavender Brown. No, no, no. No.

He went on a couple more blind dates though all were as horrific or even worse than the one before until, with six weeks to go he put his foot down.

The Slytherin's had been spending a lot of time at Luna's, it's not like they weren't already welcome, Pansy was Ginny's sister in-law after all but with Theo staying there Draco and Blaise would often pop over to spend their nights along with Pansy and Ron when they could get a sitter.

"What about Millie?" Ron asked one night.

"Lesbian" Pansy reminded her husband.

They sat for hours as they went over every pureblood witch they could think of until Ginny made the proposition. "Look, I know I'm not your type and, to be honest you're not mine either but well, if you're that desperate I suppose we could make it work." She offered. Ginny was still reeling from her recent breakup with Blaise and it seemed making rash decisions was how she got over him.

Everyone fell silent, Ron was about to pipe up that no way was he allowing his sister to just give herself up like that until a swift elbow to his ribs reminded him it was her choice. Luna left the room.

Theo declined at first but after another week of finding no loopholes he gave in and the pair set a date.

He'd tried to stay away from Luna after that, he really did but the truth was he couldn't help that his body just automatically turned to her when she walked into a room or that he would look up at the sound of her voice. Eventually Luna started to lock herself in her room, only coming out for meal times and and the occasions where she had to go into work and Theo began to feel lonely.

Having her back in his life had started to fill a void he had long ago created, being able to talk to her so easily - even with the tensions of their past hanging in the air - had been freeing. Laying on her bed and playing the guitar, reciting their old ridiculous songs had made him smile. Actually smile. For the first time in over a decade. And now she was retreating from him again because he was about to marry her best friend. He knew it wasn't ideal but honestly, what else could he do? She apparated out of her bedroom every morning and into it each night and unless he was going to blast the door down and force her to sit down there was nothing he could do.

oOoOoOo

When Luna had been on the Hogwarts Express for the first time she had sat alone. Her yellow sundress, teal tights and pink cardigan coupled with the daisies in her hair made people think she was odd long before she even opened her mouth. She didn't mind, she rather liked her own company, had grown used to it even. She was an only child and her mother had died when she was seven. It had been just her and her father since and he worked so much that sometimes it was just her.

She opened up The Quibbler she had brought along with her for the ride, preferring to read it to the nation's favourite; The Daily Prophet which she personally thought was full of lies surrounded by nargles and entwined with doxies. She wouldn't have read it if there was nothing else left to read, she rather liked making up her own mind about whether or not dimple-bottomed-forget-me-nots were real instead of having Rita Skeeter decide for her. No, The Quibbler was better. Even if she was slightly biased.

She was sat in the last compartment, the only one that had been empty, when the door opened and a tall boy with brown hair and green eyes let himself in before sitting across from her.

"Hello, I'm Theo" he said brightly as he grinned at her.

Luna was shocked, no one had spoken to her yet, they all took one look at her attire and deemed her unworthy of listening but this boy, this boy sat with ease. He didn't seem to care what she wore or that her paper was upside down, he just wanted her name.

"I'm Luna" she answered back.

"What are you reading Luna?"

Luna moved over to the seat Theo was on and shared the paper so it was between them. The pair spent the rest of the journey pouring over the parchment, discussing their favourite animals and monsters, debating on the whereabouts of the blue mountain shrimpelows and eating as much sweets off the cart as they could manage before the it was time to get dressed.

"See you at the feast" Theo said as he left the cart.

It quickly became apparent that despite their differing houses the pair were inseparable. Luna would usually get to the great hall before Theo and pack them some food before meeting him outside the doors and the pair would sit beneath a tree near the lake and enjoy their meal. They would go the library and study even though she was a year younger, Care of Magical Creatures became their favourite topic to discuss.

As the years passed the pair grew closer than ever, while Hogwarts was threatened with something new each year Luna sought comfort from the one person she trusted; Theo.

It had been in Luna's third year that people started to comment on how much time they spent together. Apparently they got the first two years for free but after that it couldn't possibly be platonic.

In her fourth year she had been home for the holidays when her father had told her he had met someone. It had turned what she knew of her world upside down. She turned to Theo for solace and in the process found her feelings for her new step-brother had changed.

She'd known they would. From the moment she met him she could feel the bond they shared, she could see it; like a golden ribbon of light that flowed between them. She knew that they were destined for more than friendship but she never mentioned it. As the years passed she felt herself drawn more and more to him until one day she realised everyone was right, it wasn't just platonic anymore.

She didn't tell him how she felt, deciding to wait for a sign but each day her feelings grew deeper and deeper until by the time he graduated she cried herself to sleep worrying about how she would last through the next year without their picnics or study sessions.

When he announced he was going to be away for part of the year her legs almost buckled beneath her until he explained he would be home for her holidays. She would have asked him to meet for Hogsmeade weekends too but felt it was too selfish.

He kept to his promise and eventually she graduated, she watched him in the crowd as he cheered and whistled harder than anyone else. She watched him smile as she received top marks in Care of Magical Creatures and that night they went out to celebrate as a family of four.

As the months passed she tried to get him to take up a job offer she had found that was perfect for him. The idea of him being so far away created a black hole she did her best to ignore as she pushed and pushed while he adamantly refused.

When she asked why she was expecting him to say it was too far but she wasn't expecting him to say it was too far from her. Her heart beat in her chest and her blood rushed to her ears as his words repeated in her head. It was too far from _her_. Did he feel the same then? Was this it? Had they finally gotten their acts together and given in to the bond? She was lay on her stomach, looking down into his green eyes as he stared at the ceiling and she couldn't help it because all of a sudden she couldn't hold her feelings in any longer. She kissed him. She kissed him like it was the most normal thing and, when he parted his lips, when he cupped her face and pulled her closer she sighed because he was hers. She saw the bond growing stronger. It pulsed and glowed and wrapped itself around them as they lay in a mess of tangled limbs on his bed. "I love you Theodore Nott" she whispered when they finally fell apart, their foreheads resting against one another.

She watched his eyes close as he relished those words until a second later, he jumped up and started to pace furiously.

She didn't know what to do. He was scaring her and he'd never done that before. She tried to listen as he muttered to himself but only caught a few words here and there though they were enough to make her eyes fill with unshed tears. "Sister" "wrong" "can't" and then he stopped pacing, he turned to face her and spared her one last glance. One glance was all she got before he was gone.

She found out two days later when an owl turned up for his mother that he was in Romania and then from Ron a week later that he had gotten the job. She cried herself to sleep every night hating herself for taking the leap even though she knew, knew in her heart he felt the same. She saw it in how he looked at her before he left, she felt it in the way he kissed her back, the way their magics had fused and the bond had strengthened. She didn't regret it. If she only ever got to kiss him once it was worth it. She could never regret it no matter how much it hurt to miss him.

oOoOoOo

Theo went home later that night, Luna and Ginny were already in bed so he followed suit. He lay awake tossing and turning, mulling everything over in his brain until the sun rose again and the only logical explanation was to get up. He wasn't sure how they did it but both girls had already left for work when he had showered and dressed so he went to visit Pansy figuring he needed a girls help. Besides, Blaise had been avoiding him since Ginny offered to marry him and, well, he had enough issues to deal with without trying to sort out that mess too. He explained everything to Pansy as she bounced a baby on her knee, he told her what had happened with Luna, how he felt about her and how she was ignoring him. He told her she was avoiding him and how he hadn't seen Blaise since Ginny offered to marry him and, on top of that, he barely even saw Ginny either.

"Cancel the ceremony" Pansy said with a heavy sigh.

"What?"

"Look at it this way Theo, you love Luna, Luna loves you. Ginny loves Blaise and Blaise loves her. If you marry Ginny you will end up resenting each other and you will both lose Luna and Blaise. Is it worth it? Is wealth worth that much to you?"

"You know what will happen if I don't marry."

"Your mother will inherit everything, I know. But really, is it worth it for a lifetime of unhappiness?"

"You know I never thought Pansy Parkinson would be the one to lecture me about wealth not being everything." Theo joked as he tickled the baby's feet.

"Apparently that happens when you marry a Weasley." Pansy smirked.

Pansy used her owl to write to Blaise and Ginny, she had them meet the following evening, both assuming they were meeting her for dinner.

Theo went home that night with a lot to think about. Both girls were already in bed just as he expected so he pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and decided to drink. Apparently there was no such thing as thinking with a clear head because each time he tried to figure out what to do he ended up having another drink.

It was 3am when Luna emerged from her room to get a glass of water. She almost didn't see Theo sat in the dark but the bond pulled her closer to him until his shadow was in sight. Then she could smell the alcohol, he reeked of it.

"Celebrating?" She asked as nonchalantly as she could muster. Her insides were twisting and she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, be held _by_ him.

"Suppose you could say that" Theo slurred.

Luna sighed, he'd drank more than enough but it wasn't her place to tell him so.

"What do you care anyway? Can't even be in the same room as me can you?" He continued.

Luna, who was normally a calm witch, who never let anything as trivial as temper get the better of her flew off the handle at his comment because how could he not know. "You're just like her you know" she said "you're just like your mother."

Theo blinked. "What?" He asked.

"You left. You left Theo. You left me. After everything you just left like I was nothing to you."

He blinked again before he put the bottle down on the table and stood slowly. "Don't you see? I didn't leave because you were nothing to me." He edged closer, they were a hair's breadth away from each other now. "I left because you were _everything_ to me."

His voice was soft and gentle and she could taste the honey that was in the Firewhiskey he drank. Her head began to fill with fog as his breath tickled her neck. They hadn't been so close in over a decade and she hated how her body betrayed her when what she wanted right now was to escape him. "You abandoned me Theo. No owls, nothing. You ran away, just like she did. Like mother like son." She hated herself for saying it but it was the only way she could get an even footing with him being so close and filling her senses. It was the truth, a harsh truth but a truth.

He backed away, he eyes closing over as the words sunk in. He knew Luna knew he hadn't ever forgiven his mother. She was the only person he had ever told his true feelings on the matter to and to have her compare them like that, it snapped something inside of him. He looked at her once more, she was practically pinned to a wall beneath him, he left her there as he went to his room. Because she was right. How could he expect her to forgive him if he hadn't forgiven his mother?

He woke the next day when it was already afternoon, he quickly sent an owl the restaurant that Blaise and Ginny were unknowingly meeting, ready for them to open and find out he had cancelled the wedding and, after finding some sober up potion took a shower before apparating to the Lovegood house. Luna had once again left before he woke.

He went to visit his mother when he couldn't stand it anymore. He forgave his mother. He told her how he had held on to his pain for all those years, how he had let it fester and grow inside of him and how he had found it easier each day to be away from her. He told her how he didn't want to hate her anymore and how he understood why she did what she did and that he forgave her. She cried tears of joy and threw her arms around him and the pair sat together as they had their first unstrained conversation since she came back.

Then he told her everything. Everything he had felt from the first time he had seen Luna on the Hogwarts Express holding an upside down paper and reading it like it was the most normal thing in the universe. He told his mother how he had felt that day she came back into his life. How he had felt to find out the girl he was falling for was his new sister. He told her about their friendship and their picnics. How they had fallen asleep together more times than not when they were living under the same roof. He told her how he had missed her that year after his graduation, how he had made sure to be home when he knew she would be there. How they had gotten closer and how he felt. He told her about the kiss, about how, out of every kiss with every other woman he had had nothing had compared. How it had touched his soul and heart. He told her that he had panicked when Luna said those three words he craved more than anything and how he had spent the past eleven years regretting his actions whilst simultaneously trying to get over the witch.

Calla Nott sat quietly as her son poured his heart out. She listened as he explained everything that had happened since his return to Britain, his father's plan to have him married before his thirtieth birthday. How after weeks and weeks of no plans Ginny Weasley had offered herself to be his. How Luna couldn't even look at him anymore and would do her utmost to be as far away from him as possible. How he missed her.

"I don't know what to do." He said with his head in his hands as he finished his story.

"You need to tell Luna the truth son."

"I can't...I just...I can't. I hurt her mum, I port-keyed out like she was nothing to me and I just left. She hates me. She _should_ hate me."

"You and I both know that Luna doesn't hate anyone."

"Well if she did I'd be top of the list." Theo mumbled.

"Talk to her. Before it's too late."

The wedding date had been set for the day before his birthday just two days away and he was starting to get anxious.

oOoOoOo

When he got back he noticed Ginny hadn't come home, he silently thanked Pansy for sorting the pair's mess out and sat up waiting for Luna m to come out for a drink like she had the night before. She didn't come. He waited and waited, desperately needing to talk to the witch, needing to apologise, tell her the wedding was cancelled and that he honestly didn't care but she never came out. Eventually he knocked on her door but there was no answer. Assuming she had already apparated to work he left himself. He had to tell his father that he wouldn't be marrying.

That was a meeting that didn't go down well. His father wasn't a good man, he wasn't kind and he certainly didn't know love and the last thing the man wanted was for his wife to get ahold of his family's fortune after being shacked up with a Lovegood for the past fifteen years. He had been so sure his son would marry the first pure-blooded witch he could find for fear of losing his inheritance that he hadn't put much stock into what may happen if he didn't.

Theo told his father about Luna, he told him everything he had told his mother only to be told there was no such thing and that he was wasting a good thing with Ginny, that he was throwing away everything their ancestors had worked hard for. He'd said love was a fairytale told to children by old hags and that no pureblood ever _loved_ his wife. He offered to find him a suitable witch but Theo declined, he told his father he wouldn't be marrying anyone, that he had too much making up to do with Luna, that he couldn't possibly love anyone like her and that he wouldn't marry for anything less than love.

He went home then, Ginny still hadn't returned but he knew Luna was back since there was a light coming from under her door. He sighed and walked over, knocking once. She didn't answer so he knocked again and when that didn't work he called her name.

"Luna I know you're there I can see your light." He said as he stood idly at her door. "Luna please talk to me."

Silence.

"Fine, if you won't talk then maybe you can listen." He said as he slid down the door and made himself comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

He apologised, he started from the beginning and apologised for every little thing. He told her how she made him feel and how he had been scared because the only person he had ever loved had left him. He laughed at that when he had to apologise for being the one to run. How he had been terrified of love but never of her, how he had thought about her every day and drank to numb the Luna shaped void in his heart. He told her she was right, he _was_ like his mother, he explained he had forgiven his mother, that he had swallowed his pride and given her a chance. "I'm sorry love." He said quietly, his head in his hands as he sat outside her door, not knowing if she was listening or had put up a silencing charm.

"Did you mean that?" A calm voice asked from across the room.

Theo looked up to see Luna stood in a towel, emerging from the bathroom. She was already dry and apparently had heard everything.

He nodded. "Y-yes" he said as his eyes met hers.

"Which part?"

"All of it"

He stood then and took a couple of steps closer. "I never meant to hurt you." He whispered.

"I know" Luna sighed as she let herself drift closer.

"I understand if you hate me."

Their eyes were still fixed on one another as she frowned. "I don't hate you Theo, I love you."

He gulped, his adam's apple bobbed at her admission. "I love you too." He admitted. "I always loved you Luna. From the first time I saw you."

"I don't know if it's enough."

"I cancelled the ceremony." Theo offered weakly.

"You did? But what about-"

"All the galleons in the world wouldn't make me as happy as you do." He admitted.

"Mmm...well what about your mother?" Luna asked.

"Already told her."

"Your father?" She wasn't sure what she was trying to achieve but she needed to make sure she wasn't hurt again.

"Told him too, he wasn't happy. Offered to set me up." Theo scoffed, he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of them. "I told him I want you. That it's always been you." He started to trace his finger down the side of her face as his voice grew deeper. "You're the first girl I ever kissed and I want you to be the last."

"You don't know what you want." Luna replied as her voice hitched when Theo's thumb traced her lips.

"I know I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up with you every morning. I know I want to seal the blasted bond that's been driving me crazy since I was twelve years old."

"You know about the bond?" Luna's eyes lit up as she stared into his. She had thought she was the only one of them to know.

"Of course I know, how could I feel for you the way I do and not know. I know who you are and _what_ you are and that scared me but I'm willing to work for your forgiveness."

Luna leaned into Theo without meaning to, his touch sent sparks through her entire being and she just wanted his thumb to be his lips. See if they were as soft as she remembered them. "That might take some time."

"All the time you need love" he said before he wrapped his arms around her and held her properly for the first time in years.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	12. Healing the Dragon (Number 11)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Healing the Dragon (Number 11)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Slash/General**

 **Pairing: Harry Potter/Charlie Weasley**

 **Trigger Warnings: Language**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Healing the Dragon**

* * *

There is much to be said about healing. For many, to feel the pain and let it go is enough. For others, the pain must be felt anew—acknowledged at the start of each day in order to feel whole. That kind of pain, that depth of grief and loss is so great that is becomes a part of you. I think it was the pain that drove him away. He couldn't handle the loss of Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Fred… Merlin, even his bloody owl! It was too much. So he left.

Hermione was the only one who'd heard from him in months. She got an owl once a moon just to let her know that he was still alive. I can laugh at that now, knowing the shitholes he was living in, having met some of the people he worked with. He wasn't safe. He wasn't careful. If anything, he threw himself into his project with reckless abandon. Hermione, though, felt that he just needed time. What a crock that was. He didn't plan on coming home. He never had. When he found me, none of them would have recognized him. The man was changed. He had killed a dark lord, but it wasn't that which touched his soul. It was the unending rain of death around it that broke him. I could very easily have added to that tally. I'm just thankful dad chose to ignore me and sent that owl.

It took three days for him to get to me. I didn't know he was coming, but when he arrived, I was in a bad way to say the least. I'd gotten into a bit of a spat with a local down the pub. Turns out he'd acquired a dagger of the sort no one wants to dance with, if ya know what I mean. He had a wand, but he didn't use it. That struck me as odd afterward. I had a fever burning through me and scorch marks from my shoulder down my spine, radiating outward toward my sides. The longer I sat there, the hotter they blazed. They felt like dragon's breath, sinking deeper into my skin.

I flooed mum and dad on the second day, but there was nothing they could do. I'd waited too long. Stubborn Weasleys, the lot of us. I just wanted to let them know I was in trouble and that I might not make it. Say my goodbyes, ya know? Dad went quiet and left the room. I think that's when he wrote him. Like I said, though, it took three days. The longest three days of my life. Every time I took a slash, it was pure blood. Downing water felt like drinking rocks. It was a damn good curse, it was. I toast the man clever enough to get me with it. My wand was just a bit too slow that night and worthless after that. The curse left my magic inert.

When he showed up, I was weak as a kneazle kitten. I'd stripped down to my pants as I felt like my skin would burn everything it touched. Nothing sated my thirst and I could barely lift my limbs even to see him enter the room. All I remember is hearing his voice whisper my name.

"Charlie."

That soft, lingering sound, as if he were my own, personal savior. Too funny, that. He didn't even take a minute to set his bags in the other room or ask what happened. His hands were all over my body, searching, seeking. When he found it, I moaned, though inside I was roaring, shrieking, trying desperately to claw at anything that could ease the pain. Then I felt it. There was this overwhelming sense about him. It was stifling; I could hardly breathe before, but when his hands began kneading the skin around that cursed mark, I could feel his magic. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat until I could feel the burning start to ease. His fingers dug sharply into my back and then it was as if Salazar himself anointed me with the fire of the desperate and pure.

Then it was gone and I was left wanting. It was all gone and I felt him trail calloused fingertips up and down my back before placing a gentle kiss to my shoulder. In my effort to turn and thank him, I placed a hand on the side of his thigh, our faces coming much closer than I'd anticipated. I didn't realize that he'd crawled onto my bed in nothing but his trousers. He was barefoot, topless, and sweating. Just as I reached out a shaking hand, his eyes closed, hissing between clenched teeth. My hand went to his shoulder to steady him and that hiss turned into a strained cry. By then, I'd regained some of my senses and I crawled around him to look at his shoulder. There, just beginning to unfurl from a swirl of red chaos, was a red dragon. Its wings were fluttering madly and the moment I placed a hand on his back, the dragon stilled. Harry slumped, his stuttering breath eased.

You see, for every cursed, dark, bloody horrific mark he takes off a person, he gets one in return. Sodding hero, that one is. The key to his marks, though, is that they resemble the person he took it from, not the original mark. Can't have him walking around with ugly scars and death eater skulls on him, now can we? When I took a look at him—really looked at him, he'd already taken four or five by that point, not counting my own. That was considering I couldn't see his legs. He was only twenty, for Merlin's sake, but the man in front of me had already taken on so much of the world's pain.

I remember his laugh when I questioned why he did it. You know what he said?

"It's all I can do now." He held out his hands, palms up, as if showing me an empty bowl with nothing to give. "I've got to do something. There's nothing else left for me."

That was when I asked him to stay. Take a breather. Relax. At first, the answer was no. Told me he had research to complete back in Germany. There were a couple of ritualistic tribes there who were known for using ink to communicate to the soul. They say a soul can't be stolen, but you wouldn't catch me walking into either of those worlds. It took a few tries, but he changed his mind, perhaps realizing that an international portkey was a bit more tiring than he wanted, on top of having just done some pretty powerful magic.

It was my turn to take care of him, so I showed him to the spare room and watched as he levitated his only bag behind him. He must have been totally knackered not to carry it, as muggle as this one's always been. When I saw that he was pretty much settled, he turned to say some sort of farewell, but it got muffled as the two of us were too close. He slumped against me and I braced him. One look at those tired, lost eyes and I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and kissed him, whispering, "Thank you" against his lips. Damn if his lips weren't dry and cracked from being outside and dehydrated, but he more than made up for it in the eager tilt of his head and the sigh as I pulled away. I managed a quick, "Goodnight," and went back to my own bed for an I'm-still-alive wank, feeling only a little guilty with him in the next room.

One night turned into a few days and before I knew it, he'd been there for a week. He was a right great kisser, he was, and we stole every chance we got. He'd be coming out of the shower, towel wrapped round his waist and that shaggy mop of hair looking like a dead rat on his head, but when he cornered me, we had the best bloody snogs. I remember all too well the time I took him out ranging with me and we stopped in to check on a horntail, only to find her out hunting. Damn. I can still remember crouching down to use my teeth on his trousers, the laces too fucking long. I had my own dragon-hide bottoms popped open, slowly fisting myself as I gave him a blowjob right there in that dragon's den. She could have come back at any minute. It wasn't until we felt the flap of her wings that he told me he'd never done that before. I was blown away, but man if that wasn't a shock to the system. I mean, come on. Twenty years old and never had a blowjob? What kind of cave had he been living in? Heh.

It didn't take long for him to start getting restless. I heard him cast silencing charms at night. I watched as he picked up scattered things in the morning. One night, I snuck in. He didn't lock the door, but there was enough clutter around the room to hold anyone out for a little bit. All of the blankets and sheets were everywhere. He was thrashing and screaming, but I couldn't hear him. His face was streaked with sweat and his body was so tense I thought he might explode from the pressure. At first, I didn't want to jump in. I could feel his magic pulsing in the room, but at the tortured look on his sleeping face, I couldn't stay out.

I shook him, but that didn't do anything. I tried to crush his arms to his sides, holding him to me. He struggled relentlessly against my hold until he broke free again, still with the silent screaming. Finally, I slapped him. He snapped awake, but the panic on his face was something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. He didn't even ask why I'd barged into his room in the middle of the night when he'd obviously cast the silencing charm on the room and himself. Instead, he launched at me. I don't know if I can describe what happened next. Fuck, just thinking about it… You know what? I have a pensieve around here somewhere. Hold on a minute.

Okay here we go. Let me show you.

|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|

There was a split second before Harry dove forward, capturing Charlie's lips with his own. He pushed the older man down onto his bed, not caring that his nearly naked body slid roughly against the one beneath him. Not caring that he heard Charlie's moan, but his was silently captured in the cavern of Charlie's waiting mouth. Between them, fingers and hands grabbed, slid, and found every delicious piece of exposed skin.

When Charlie's chest rolled upward, throwing Harry backward and grinding their pulsing cocks tighter between them, Harry couldn't take it any longer. He reached down and savagely tore at Charlie's pants, tugging with nails and teeth and leaving red trails of anticipation down his thighs. Charlie's exposed cock bobbed in Harry's face. The brunette licked his lips. He reached forward tentatively, gripping the base and twisting harshly upward. A few more panting pulls and he leaned forward into Charlie's ear, having wandlessly canceled the silencing spell, and grunted, "I want you to fuck me."

Charlie's eyes lit up as he grabbed Harry's hips, rolling the smaller man beneath him. He ground his exposed flesh into Harry's stomach before biting his chin, holding for a few seconds, then letting go with a sloppy kiss. Mercilessly, he worked his way down the chest before him. Biting, lapping, dragging his nails up Harry's side only to pinch a nipple hard enough to cause a gasp then flick its pebbled tip. When he reached his hip, Charlie pulled down the pants enough to place a rough bite, leaving a mark that purpled. He hooked his thumbs beneath the fabric then yanked, not caring that it caught on his skin or that Harry had to wriggle out of them awkwardly in order to avoid getting tangled.

Exposed, wanting, Harry lay there breathing harshly into the bed beneath the weighty gaze of the dragon tamer. His muscled forearms bore his weight as he leaned over and grabbed a jar from the bedside table. There was no flourish here, no soft pampering. Charlie coated his fingers and thrust two of them deep inside of Harry, scissoring and stretching. The man on the bed grunted, fisting the sheets to deal with the burning. His eyes were wild and his hair shook as his head tossed from side to side. A third finger was added in rapid succession. Harry's erection flagged a little, so Charlie hooked his fingers just enough to catch the edge of his prostate. Harry nearly bolted, the sensation was so intense.

Wicked grin and savage fingers alike, Charlie backed away. He lathered his cock up and positioned himself at Harry's entrance. Harry's eyes were glazed, not quite focused on Charlie. He reached out, grabbed the younger man's chin, and thrust in. There was no easing in, no getting used to the feeling; only the cool burn of being completely filled by the man who had given him what he asked for.

"Is this what you wanted?" He began thrusting, shallow at first, dragging over Harry's prostate. When he could see the brunette struggling for words, he began moving his hips in earnest. All either of them could hear were the frenzied grunts between and the slap of skin on sweat-soaked skin. Charlie's hair was damp now, clinging to his face as he tried to hold himself back. The angry man beneath him clawed repeatedly at his chest and back, and every time he felt those nails dig into his flesh, his pace became more erratic. The slow build in his belly was coming too quickly now. He reached between them and slapped Harry's cock. He watched as it bounced off of his taut stomach, dripping precome and sliding back and forth in it. When he gripped it, holding the base firmly for a moment, he could see the slight neck arch, hear the gasp of breath. It was more impressive when his fist pumped to his own rhythm, pulling the orgasm from Harry in just a few rough strokes. Feeling Harry clench around him, that tight heat stole his own release. He spilled in the man beneath him and braced himself for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Harry looked up and kissed him, then bit his chin hard enough to leave a light red mark. Charlie could feel himself slipping out a bit, but already a twinge of interest was bringing him round again.

|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|

Would you believe that was his first time? We didn't talk about it much, but I'll be damned if he didn't want to feel pain. I think I woke him up from that nightmare and he was angry with me, so he took it any way he could. I wondered for a bit if he was using me. If he was punishing himself by using me. How awful, yeah?

Some things have been made public, but some of the things that he's gone through, no one knows. He keeps those hidden until he sleeps. Those are the demons that chase him in the shadows of sleep. The next night, he didn't put the silencing charm up. I heard him start to scream—awful things, terrible things. When I heard a thump, I ran over, only to find him naked and shivering on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his ankles. He'd gone and flailed so hard he fell off the bed. Knocked his head pretty hard, but that didn't seem to stop him. Crazy sod saw me and all I heard was a growled version of my name before I had claw marks on my face. He tried to drive himself down on me completely after he bowled me to the floor.

Most nights were like that. He stopped going to his own bed. After a month or so, he started sleeping more. The haunted look started to fade from beneath his eyes. With time, his gaunt body filled out and he looked more human, more real. We started talking in between the stillness of our sated bodies and when his anger would rise anew. It was in that time that I learned what he was working on. I saw all of his battle scars. I traced all of his marks. He seemed to preen particularly at the dragon, more so when it fluttered beneath my touch.

Time passed slowly for Harry and I. When he first asked the question, I was absorbed in a report on the migration of the local wild dragons. Bare feet padded softly against the stone of the room, echoing and doing nothing to conceal the sheepish grin on his face. A grin. That was something I hadn't seen damn near enough of since he'd been with me. I miss that grin. I can clearly remember the words he used, "Charlie, I want you to come with me. I'm better with you." He'd looked down at his feet as if they held all the answers. I denied him that time and every time after that.

Merlin, but some days I wish I would have just apparated away with him. I could hear those bare feet padding through the house, walking from room to room. When the strides got short and the steps too heavy, I could tell he was building up to something. That was when the sex was violent. Sometimes we bruised each other, left bite marks a little too deep, didn't ask for the things we wanted, just took. We often came away from those nights needing a bit more than a good soak. He only needed a healing potion the once. Yeah, I can read the judgment all over your face, but you weren't there. You didn't feel his need.

The afternoon he dreamed of Sirius was the worst. I should probably just show you that one, too.

|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|

He'd tried to help Harry forget, but instead he'd just had waking dreams. They'd spent the evening at the pub consuming as much alcohol as they could, leaving only when the barmaid cut them both off. It was probably a good thing too, as neither one of them could walk very well, let alone apparate without splinching. Harry and Charlie crashed through the bedroom door, heavy and awkward with a full evening's drink. They kissed lazily, not caring that more often than not one of them stumbled or the other's tongue plunged a little too deeply. Together, they groped and wriggled until they were out of their robes, revealing the shirt and trousers beneath. Neither cared much as Harry recaptured Charlie's mouth again. It was a few minutes before Harry spun Charlie toward the door, ripping open his button-down and laughing as he licked a swath up the ginger-haired chest. When he met Charlie's eyes again, he stopped, mouth hanging open.

"Come with me, Charlie." The burly redhead groaned in response, leaning his head back against the door.

"I can't, Harry." He looked his lover straight in the eye now, catching those emeralds as they glinted in the candlelight. "You know my research is here, my home is with the dragons." Leaning forward to place a kiss on Harry's cheek, he was rather shocked when Harry's fist was there instead.

Charlie was absolutely stunned for a minute. Lifting a hand to rub at his jaw, he gaped at the panting brunette before lurching forward and throwing his own punch. Harry caught him and they were entangled, tussling, tugging, pulling, punching, until Charlie somehow managed to get Harry pinned beneath him. He continued to savage Harry's body until he brutally bit into the flesh around his right nipple, eliciting a ragged moan that was part pain and part—something else. That set them off again and their lips found each other, bruised as they were. Open-mouthed kisses turned into tangling tongues and there was more passion in that than the languid grinding happening between their legs. As the desire pooled between them, so did the flare of anger that fueled the earlier argument and they began tearing at each other's clothes until they were naked.

Harry ended up with a bruised lip as they fought for dominance, but he cast an incarcerous spell on Charlie, pinning him to the floor. Charlie's thick arms were stretched out almost painfully, held snug to the nearest leg of the bed. His young lover had learned a thing or two since they'd been together and grabbed his wand from his discarded trousers. Softly, he cast a stretching spell. Charlie grunted, as the spell is uncomfortable at best, then looked up just as Harry plunged deep into his body. It took a moment to realize that he'd held his breath since the spell was cast, but he let it out when he felt the solid weight of Harry's thighs against his own. Charlie's body tried to lurch upward but was held fast by the spell. Instead, he gripped his restraints and murmured Harry's name endlessly under his breath.

With a soft growl, Harry reached down to lift Charlie's thighs, angling him upward to drive deeper, right at his prostate. The man's cock bobbed in time with each thrust, an angry purple shaft that drizzled precome across his abdomen. Harry growled again as Charlie tilted his head back, looked away, and slapped Charlie to bring the focus back on him. Timed with a series of particularly deep, percussive thrusts, he snarled, "You are mine. I need you," and spilled inside him. Charlie gasped in the midst of it all and came between them, sticky as Harry collapsed on his chest.

His bonds released and he reached down to caress the man still inside him, felt him wince as he brushed across a bruise.

"Ah, but you were never mine. We were not meant to tame the wild ones." He felt sobs against his chest as Harry drifted into oblivion. "I love you, Harry." Charlie stroked his back as they lay there in the aftermath of their emotions.

|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|-o-|

That was the last time he asked me to go with him. Damn it all if I don't regret my answer most of the time, but I think we both made the right choice. He wasn't done healing by half and he had more of the pain inside him yet. More of the anger to let out, and one man can only do so much. Every time he got to rambling about that bloody project of his, I saw the light in his eyes, and the passion there was absolutely unbelievable. He'd absently rub one of his marks when he talked about it. I don't think he realized, but every one of the silly things became a sort of talisman to him, calling him on to something greater.

How could I go with him, hold him back for even a second when I saw the potential of who he could be? I could never live with myself if I did that. I see the look on your face. You saw it in the memory, I'm not daft. I cut it off there for a reason. I loved the bloody git. I always will, ya know. There's not much else to be said, I don't think. I promised to tell you everything and I believe I've gone and told you all of the important bits.

What you don't know, see, is that I made another promise, an earlier one. I promised him that everything between us would stay there. I keep my promises, most particularly to him. I'm real sorry about this, but I'm glad that someone else knew about it all, even if it was just for a little while. Don't be looking for your wand now. I've already pulled it off you when you were in the pensieve. There's a good lad.

 _Obliviate!_

As I was saying, I'm sorry, Draco. You're going to have to speak with Harry about his time in Romania. I'm afraid there just isn't much to tell.

* * *

 **Reviews: Anything**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	13. The Choices of Tomorrow (Number 12)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: The Choices of Tomorrow (Number 12)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M, Slash**

 **Genre: Slash/General**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom**

 **Trigger Warnings: Language**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **The Choices of Tomorrow**

* * *

Smooth, heavy with smoke, the whiskey burned as he swallowed. This was his third and he raised a hand to signal Rosmerta. She nodded, grabbing the bottle.

"Sure you're up for more, love?"

"We're having a party, can't you tell?" Venemous, as always. She could see the desperation in his eyes, the need to borrow time in drunken dreams.

"Aye, I can see what kind of party you'll be havin' in the morning. He needs to be on his feet by the end of the night, ya hear me, Blaise?" The other man turned, smirking just enough to make her laugh. "You two ought to find yourselves a couple of nice girls and get out of my bar." With that, she sashayed off, her apron brushing against more than one rowdy customer.

"Did you hear that, Blaise? She thinks we should find a nice girl and sod off." Another sip; this one stung less.

"Well, friend. Perhaps she's right. Your mum throws enough pureblood skirts your way, you're bound to find one that even _your_ nose can't turn up at." Faster than his drunk companion, Blaise leaned away from the fist that came swinging, missing him by quite the span. The outstretched hand landed on the table with a thud. He groaned, looking through blonde fringe and sighing.

"Did you know she said if I didn't provide an heir by the end of the year, I'd lose my fortune?" His exaggerated expressions were amusing. Blaise reached out to pat the shoulder of his somber friend. "Don't patronize me, Zabini."

"What would you like me to do, Draco?" At this, he sat up, wiping away a slither of drool— a failing attempt to recover his composure.

"I would like you to find me a pureblood worth marrying. Someone to carry my child who I don't find repulsive and who I won't despise for the rest of my life. How about that, _friend_?"

"Damn, Draco. How about you tell me to make Potter fart rainbows and lick your toes for breakfast _and_ noon tea while we're at it?" He snorted, gazing about the room. "Ahh, there you are. Pureblood—check. Male—check. Not a complete arse—check." Draco was glaring at him now, gripping his glass fiercely. "Don't spill your drink; you might not be able to afford another soon." A laugh brought Draco's attention back to the current situation.

"Fucker. Who is this mysterious man you think I should procreate with?"

Blaise's upper body turned toward the bar and he cupped a hand to his mouth. "Eh, Longbottom." When the recipient of the call looked over, Blaise smiled with all of his pearly whites. "Come here a minute, would ya?"

"Longbottom? Are you fucking with me?" His voice had dropped to a whisper and his glass now sloshed its contents around.

Both Slytherins watched as Neville Longbottom paid for his butterbeer and turned toward their table. He was hesitant, sensing the tension between the two friends. Blaise was all welcome body language—bright smile, open arms on the table and relaxed posture. Draco, on the other hand, had one hand on his lap, the other gripping his drink tightly, and hid his face behind his hair. His jaw clenched repeatedly and he hunched over the table. Neville approached anyway, remembering that it was Blaise who'd called.

"Hello, mate. Been a while. How've you been?"

"Oh, hello Blaise. I've been all right, I guess." He ducked his head, taking a cautious sip of his drink. A bit of foam stuck to his lip and his tongue darted out to lick it off.

"Do you remember Draco?"

"Of course, yeah, I remember him. Hullo Draco." He hesitated a bit on the name, but got the awkward greeting out none the less.

"Longbottom." Draco didn't even look up. Blaise laughed—a full, hearty thrum.

"Our friend, here, is in a bit of a bind."

"Zabini." The name was harsh; a warning that was completely ignored.

"You see, he has to marry a pureblood and provide an heir or his fortune will disappear. Mummy dearest is going to completely cut him off." Blaise made a scissoring motion obscenely low and Neville choked on the sip he'd just been starting to swallow.

"Oh. Well, that's terrible." He stood, both hands on his mug, looking down into the foam.

"Yes, well, I think you can help him." That got both of their attention. Neville nearly dropped his drink and Draco groaned into the table. "You two would be perfect for each other." There it was—the smug smile of a friend who was trying his best to make all of his devious plans line up.

"I-I, he isn't—"

"Oh, but he is."

"Zabini, you go too far." Draco was sitting up now, his storm-grey eyes completely focused on Blaise.

"No. I think it would be perfect." He turned to Neville. "Has old Augusta been pestering you for marriage, yet?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"Then you see, it's perfect."

"What on earth could possibly be perfect about this?" Draco's open gape was nearly hostile and Neville took a step back. It took the Gryffindor a moment, but he gathered his courage, downed the rest of his drink, and slammed his mug on the table.

"I'd do it," was all he said, looking directly at Draco, before he walked back to the bar.

"Fuck me if he didn't just say he'd marry you." Blaise laughed, clapping Draco on the shoulder.

"Marrying Longbottom won't solve anything."

"It would solve _everything_ , Draco!" He leaned in close, talking quickly now. "Think about it: he's a pureblood, he's, well, a man, he's got his own upstanding family, he could provide you with an heir, and he bloody well offered to marry you! What on earth are you not seeing about this?"

"It's Longbottom."

"Have you looked at him, really looked at him since Hogwarts? He's not the same, you know."

Draco shook his head, lifting a hand to wipe some of the drunkenness from his face. He turned toward the bar, spotting broad shoulders and shaggy hair. He looked to the right and left, trying to find Longbottom, but when the man turned, a shy blush was all he needed to tell him the man he was admiring from behind _was_ Neville Longbottom. His eyes drifted from his shoulders down his trim waist to slender hips. They were encased in a pair of muggle denims, which highlighted a fantastic arse. Draco absentmindedly licked his lips, bringing his whiskey up for a quick drink.

"Like what you see?" Blaise shook him out of his admiration and he about spewed alcohol all over the both of them.

"Merlin, Blaise. Give a man a break here." He set his drink down, thumbing the edge of the glass. "He's not half bad, I guess."

"Not half bad? I'm straight as an arrow, and I've half a mind to shag the bloke. He's cute as a button, Draco."

"Sod it."

"Go talk to him. Maybe you two really can work something out." Blaise lifted his chin toward Neville, who was nursing a new butterbeer and making small talk with Hannah Abbott, Rosmerta's barmaid.

"Fine, but only because you've given me no other options and I'm buggered otherwise."

"Oh wouldn't you like to be." Blaise pursed his lips, trying, and failing, to withhold his laughter. He raised his glass in salute as Draco trudged off.

The bar was nearly deserted as Draco approached. Perhaps a heated glare or two could have helped with part of that. He sat next to Neville and lifted two fingers toward Rosmerta, signaling a refill. Hannah lifted a curious brow at Draco and he shook his head.

"Were you serious?"

"What do you mean?" Neville swiveled on his stool, brows drawn tightly as he considered Draco's tired face and posture.

"Were you serious about marrying me? You realize that it's a bit more complicated than a quick bonding ceremony and sharing in the Malfoy fortunes." His voice was low, rasping out the words as if they pained him.

"Honestly, Draco, I didn't even know you were bent." Rosmerta walked over with the bottle of whiskey and poured two fingers. Draco rummaged for a hefty tip. "I'm not sure exactly what you're looking to get out of this, but my gran wants a marriage and an heir out of me too. That's a bit difficult when you're… different."

"Different? What in the barmy hells are you calling different?"

"After the war, so many people wanted attention. They wanted to talk to me, to be around me, date me. I never liked that kind of thing. If they didn't want to be around me before, then why should I be around them now? It was a load of bollocks, it was."

"You're not making this any easier, Longbottom. You and I have never been mates."

"Well that's right and good, but at least I know you aren't after my fame or my reputation. The most you'd be after would be my bloodline and my dashing good looks, yeah?" Neville lifted his chin proudly for a minute before blushing and burying his head in his butterbeer again.

"All right. Well say we did this. What are your terms?"

"You want to discuss this now? Here?"

"Might as well."

"You're drunk, Draco. I don't think that bodes well for any proper kind of decision making."

Draco scowled, slamming the whiskey glass against the bar's edge, watching as it nearly toppled. Only Neville's quick fingers saved it from the floor.

"Uh, thanks."

"As I said, you're drunk. We should talk about this tomorrow, if you're even remotely still interested by then."

"Fine. Tea. Your choice. Owl me." Draco stood, wobbling a bit and having to grab the bar's edge to steady himself. Once he was holding upright, he let go and began walking away.

"Draco, wait!"

"What?" Gruff, angry almost.

"I don't have your address. I know you're not at the manor anymore, but—"

"Stop talking." A wobbly step back to the bar. "Here." He pulled out his wand and cast a quiet spell, mumbling so that Neville couldn't quite make it out. There, on the inside of his wrist was an address.

"Oh. Okay then. Night, Draco." Draco just lifted a hand as he drifted back to the table he'd shared with Blaise.

"How did it go, lover boy?"

"Bugger off, Zabini."

"Honestly now, Draco. I'm only trying to help."

"Yea, like that ring on your finger entitles you to help with this sort of problem."

"If I can't help you with this, then what is a best friend for? Besides, you can't blame me for falling madly in love with a fiery goddess of a woman, now can you?" His eyes blazed, but he held back, waiting for Draco to spill. He knew baiting too much would cause the former ice prince to go glacial. A few quiet moments passed where they sipped quietly, only small gestures letting Blaise know that Draco was irritated. Finally, the blonde let out an exaggerated breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Tea tomorra."

"Tea?" Another dubious eyebrow lift. "You'll most definitely need some after this binge." Blaise wrinkled his nose at Draco as he drained the whiskey and tried to request another.

"You're cut off. I saw you trying to walk not more than half hour ago. Take him home, Zabini!" Blaise laughed and gave a half-hearted salute to the matron.

"Looks like I need to get you home and in some sort of working order before your date tomorrow."

"S'not a date."

"Sure it's not. Let's get you through the floo and into bed. On second thought, floo, sober-up potion, then bed." Hearing his friend's drawn-out protest, Blaise gripped his arm and hefted upward. "You'll thank me later." The floo engulfed them.

On the other side, Draco fell to his knees before sliding to the floor. Blaise started laughing. "It's been a while since I've been the sober one. Damn. Hold on. Mobilicorpus." Once the spell took hold, he directed his wand toward the bedroom door and the softly snoring body of his friend followed. Lifting Draco onto the bed was another matter entirely. The spell helped, but it wasn't quite enough to get him arranged so that the princess wouldn't have a kneazle about his rumpled clothes. Blaise stripped Draco's shirt, tugged off each rather-expensive boot, tossed them all across the room haphazardly for good measure, and left him in his trousers. Then he went into the loo and tried to dig around for a sober-up. Finding one, he wandered back into the bedroom and stared at the sleeping man for a minute.

"You'd better not ruin this, Draco. Neville is too bloody good for you." He shook his head and proceeded to pour the vial's contents down the near-unconscious man's throat. Draco choked and spluttered for a minute, shouting several expletives before succumbing to sleep again. He didn't even notice when Blaise picked up one of his clubbing shirts, mumbled something about borrowing-not-borrowing, and walked out.

There was an irritating, scratching sound. He rubbed at his ear, willing it to go away. No such luck; it only intensified. Draco opened one sleep-swollen eye and saw a tawny owl at his window, most insistent on being let in. It was a matter of seconds, really, but he was able to drag himself out of bed and meander over to the window. He let the owl in. She flew over to his bedpost and huffed there. Draco sighed. He closed the window, silently throwing a curse to Merlin for whomever felt the need to owl him at the arse crack of morning. The owl was a bit resistant on letting its parcel go, so a bit of a bribe was necessary.

Three treats later, he was able to get the letter off its leg with only a minor scratch to show for it. The bloody owl was preening on the bedpost as if she'd been paid extra to be a twat. There wasn't much to the letter. " _Tea. The Baroness. 11:00_." Draco cast a quick tempus and swore as he only had an hour. He ran to the floo, tossing in some powder and calling out Blaise's address.

"Blaise! Answer me right fucking now!"

"Salazar's balls, Draco. What has your knickers in a twist so bloody early?" Blaise's face popped into the fire and it was obvious that he'd been delayed going home the night prior.

"This! This is what has me _in a twist_!" He threw the note in the air, as if Blaise could read it through the floo.

"Do you need me to come over?"

"Yes, you wanker. Now." Draco stormed to his room, leaving the floo connection open. Blaise stepped through, calling back to Ginny that their precious ice prince had an emergency. She laughed and told him to go take care of it before he melted.

"Draco, darling. You'd better have a reason for pulling me from between the legs of my lovely wife." All he heard were the sounds of the shower starting, bottles clanging, and a continuous stream of swearing. Blaise sighed, leaning down to pick up the discarded note. "Ahh, so this is the source of our problems." He cast a tempus and realized that Draco now only had about fifty minutes if he was going to be on time.

When Draco emerged from the shower, smelling of mint and faintly of pine, Blaise had an outfit laid out on the bed. Draco looked it over and huffed.

"That's very muggle." He started pulling on the denims, followed by a black button-up and a light-grey jumper.

"You're going to a muggle shop."

"This is never going to work. It's Longbottom, for Merlin's sake." Draco sat on the end of his bed, pulling on his boots very carefully. He looked up; the poor man was lost. "I'm so fucked." Blaise sat next to him, placing a hand on his.

"Draco. You are a Malfoy. You need to start acting like one. You need this marriage. You will do whatever it takes to get what you need, yes?" Draco nodded. "Then go and get it." Draco stood, mentally preparing himself. "But Draco," he turned back to look at his friend, "don't ruin this." A confused look crossed his face before he walked out to the floo.

"Thanks, Blaise." It was quiet, but he hoped his friend heard it. "Diagon Alley," he called as he threw some powder into the floo and stepped forward. He could walk from there.

The Baroness was a quaint little dive. Her front held a large, open window with the outline of a mug and a swirl of smoke in the corner. She was a wooden building, older, but not quite run-down. The door was strong and reinforced. It held no windows. Draco gripped the handle and tugged. Cool air followed him into the crowded space, but it was quickly warmed by the heat of so many bodies and the flow of warm drinks and conversation. He looked around, trying to spot Neville. In his ignorance of the surroundings, he did not notice when his prey stepped up behind him.

"Hullo, Draco."

"Wha—oh." He spun quickly, hand instinctively around the wand up his jumper sleeve. His body relaxed when he saw who it was. "Longbottom."

"You should probably start calling me Neville."

"Tea. We should start with tea." Neville's grin widened. His arm swung out to point Draco in the direction of a booth.

"What would you like, your highness?" Draco bristled.

"Earl grey. A teaspoon of honey. Their finest." He hesitated, then, "Thank you." Neville looked taken aback at the last bit, but set his own cup down to order the drink for Draco. When he slid into the booth across from the blonde, he pushed the tea gently over and waited as Draco took a sip. "Very good."

"It is, isn't it? The Baroness is my favorite."

"Right then. Should we hash out the details or have you brought me here to back out?" Neville coughed into his tea for a moment.

"No, Draco. I am very much here to move this forward. What do you need to know?" It was interesting to Draco how still Neville was. He barely moved other than to drink his tea.

"Where do you think we will live? I already have a flat and—"

"Your flat is fine." Draco nodded, expecting nothing less.

"What do you do for work? I don't know anything about you."

"I'm an herbologist. Right now I have a shop in Diagon Alley, but Pomona has asked me to consider teaching at Hogwarts when she retires." More quiet nods from across the table.

"And the Longbottom assets?"

"Will combine with the Malfoy assets and be run jointly, since we are both currently heirs to our houses. If we have more than one child, then I assume we would appoint one to each house."

"The first male heir will be a Malfoy."

"That's fine." Draco was fidgeting now. He'd started tapping against the edge of his mug in time with the bounce of one leg.

"Why aren't you hammering me with questions? Aren't you nervous?"

"I'm sure everything can be worked out. This situation would be advantageous to both our circumstances. I just never knew you were…"

"Yeah. Why do you think I'm still the magical world's most eligible bachelor? Mum won't let it go this time." His nails moved from the mug to the poor table and began worrying a line in the finish. Neville reached out and placed a hand atop Draco's to still it.

"Draco. Are you sure this is something you want?" Draco laughed mirthlessly.

"Want? Do you think I get anything I want anymore? I was on house arrest for two years without the use of my wand. I couldn't even cast a scourgify if I spilled pumpkin juice. I had to do community service and that meant working at Hogwarts under Hagrid for nearly a year. Let me tell you how much fun I had. After that, mum began her hounding about getting married. I have to provide an heir. I have to marry an upstanding, pureblood witch. I have to, I have to. I'm so sodding tired of having to do everything for everyone else. So to answer your question, Longbottom, no I don't particularly want this, but I have no other choice." His nostrils were flaring by the end, and it looked like the wind had been blown right out of him.

Neville squeezed his hand. Draco looked up from that gesture and saw nothing but a friend. It was dizzying.

"When would you like to perform the bonding ceremony?"

"Are you fucking with me? I just told you that I am only doing this out of duty to my family and you still want to go through with it?"

"I have my own reasons. Answer the question."

"As soon as possible."

"We can do it tonight, if you like. At least I think I can get him to do it tonight." Neville tilted his head, biting a lip in thought.

"Who are you talking about? I don't want this in the papers and I most certainly don't want a big affair. I just want it over with."

"I know someone. Let me make some arrangements. Plan for this evening. I'll floo you with the details, okay?"

"Fine." Draco took his hand back and sipped at his tea.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." That bewildered him, but he could only stare as Neville rose and returned his mug to the counter. Those broad shoulders jerked in a short, laughing exchange with the teller before he turned and walked toward the door. He turned one last glance to Draco before disappearing out into the grey afternoon.

"Fuck." Draco finished his tea, placing the mug and a large tip on the table before leaving the shop and finding the nearest alley. There, he apparated home and waited.

By lunch, he had that blasted owl hammering at his window again. This time he was prepared and had treats in hand before he let the bird in. She let him take the note with an outstretched leg while he handed her a treat. No injuries; he was getting better at dealing with Longbo—Neville's bloody bird. He unrolled the parchment and shook his head. Once again, the man was not free with words. " _The Hog's Head. 7:00pm. Room 4. Bring someone to stand for you._ " He had some time. He needed to floo Blaise. Draco sighed and went to the fireplace, feeling like he'd just got done doing this.

"Draco? Don't tell me you're stealing my husband again."

"Hello, Ginny. I'm afraid I must."

"We had plans."

"Can you please get him for me?"

"Draaaaaco!"

"Ginny, please." Draco was not normally this patient or polite to Ginny, so she pursed her lips and stared at him for a minute before standing.

"Fine. Blaaaaaaaaise!" Draco covered his ears.

"Blast it, woman! Couldn't you have gone and gotten the ruddy wanker?"

"Nope." She grinned. "He's coming. I can hear him thumping up the stairs. Have fun boys!"

"Draco. To what do I owe the pleasure now? I had hoped you were quite occupied today."

"Gee, Blaise. One would think you didn't appreciate your best friend."

"Pulling the best friend card. It must be serious."

"It is. Can you come through?"

"I've only got trousers on. Will that offend your poor, Malfoy sensibilities?"

"It's not like I haven't seen you drunk and naked before," he paused, "on your wedding night. Rutting with the weaselette."

"Okay, okay. I'm coming through." Blaise made a shooing gesture and stepped through the flames. He was true to his word; he was only clad in a pair of light blue pajama pants. They looked creamy and soft. Draco shook his head. "So what is so important that Ginny can't hear and you apparently need to make me cancel plans with my wife—again?"

"I'm getting married."

"Okay. And…?"

"Tonight."

"Oh."

"Yes. And I need you to stand for me." Blaise sat on the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be a chaise lounge. He crossed his legs, resting an elbow on one and propping his chin there.

"Tonight? Are you sure about this? I mean I know I pushed you toward Neville and it seems like it would be a perfect solution—if you don't ruddy it up—but tonight? Draco, there are an awful lot of questions you should be asking yourself here."

"Tonight, Blaise." Draco was pacing the room, fingers worrying at his wand, then the edge of his shirt, then through his hair. In a matter of moments, his hair resembled Potter's and he laughed. He plopped down unceremoniously next to his best friend and laid his head on Blaise's shoulder. "I need you tonight, Blaise." The sincerity in Draco's voice, more than anything, convinced Blaise that there was more to this situation than what he knew.

"You owe Ginny. Something fancy."

"Done."

"When and where?"

They exchanged details as Blaise helped Draco pick out clothing for the evening. It wasn't as if he had the time to get measured for custom robes or anything of the sort. He was getting married that evening and he was wearing clothing he'd stuffed in the back of his closet. Several panic attacks had to be put aside in order to get through the time span between the owl arriving and when they apparated to the Hog's Head. It might have helped that Blaise supplied Draco with a small hoard of alcohol to dissipate the nerves.

The deep charcoal overcloak shadowed Draco's face as they entered the pub. No one paid them much heed as the pair walked past the bar and straight up the stairs. Blaise pretended not to notice Draco's slowing pace as he ascended; instead, he placed a hand on Draco's back and ushered him forward. The door to room four was unremarkable.

It was Blaise who knocked. Draco was frozen on the other side of the hall. Just as he thought about turning and high-tailing it back down the stairs, none other than Harry Potter answered the door.

"Of course he would pick you. I should have guessed. Well we're here." Harry raised a brow before looking out into the hallway. He couldn't make out the face beneath the cloak. Harry grinned, hearing Neville lamenting farther back in the room.

"Just let them in, Harry."

"In you come, then."

Blaise turned to see Draco stuck there in the hall. He reached out a hand and the hooded man waved him away, striding forward as if he hadn't been unable to move for the last five minutes. He brushed past Harry, sure to ram his shoulder as he went through.

"What's up that one's arse?" Harry turned to ask Blaise.

"Nothing. Such a shame." He grinned and walked into the room. Harry shook his head and closed the door.

When Harry turned around, he had to do a double-take. The hooded figure had removed the overcloak, only to reveal Draco Malfoy.

"Neville! You didn't tell me Malfoy was the bloody Slytherin you were marrying!"

"Wait a minute. He didn't tell you who it was?" Blaise looked all too pleased with himself. Neville shook his head.

"No! He only told me it was a Slytherin and I knew 'em from school."

"Oh, this is too good." Blaise plopped down on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the comforter overly much.

"Look, Harry. I need you here for me. This isn't just for him, you know." In the middle of the conversation, Neville pulled Harry aside. Neville looked too serious to interrupt. After a few minutes of hushed whispers, they returned to the larger group. Draco hadn't moved from leaning against the wall.

"All right. All right. You all have the right to marry whomever you bloody well want to. I just want to make sure my friend is okay." Harry's wand slid down from his sleeve as he stalked over to Draco. The blonde didn't move. Instead, he took a rather curious interest in his fingernails. "Neville Longbottom is one of the best friends I have. He is a brave, kind soul. If you do anything, and I do mean anything, Malfoy, to hurt him, you will have me and every one of us Gryffindors to deal with. Do you understand me?"

"Are you done, Potter?"

"Never."

"Let's move forward with this. Shall we, Longbottom?"

"I've been waiting all afternoon for you lot to get your crap together. Are you done squabbling like teenagers?"

"Yes, Aberforth. If you could perform the ceremony, we would be grateful." Neville nodded to the corner of the room, where the bar's owner stepped out of the shadows.

"This will be short and to the point, boys. I believe that's what you wanted?" Neville and Draco nodded. "All right then. Did either of you bring bonding rings?"

"Oh, no. I forgot." Neville's face was so stricken with worry that Harry had to step forward and catch him before he tripped. They were immediately in discussion about where Neville could have left them when Draco stepped forward.

"I have the Malfoy rings." There was so much commotion from Neville and Harry that they did not hear Draco. "Neville." He tried again, louder this time. "Neville." Still no response. "NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!" Harry and Neville spun to face him, mouths equally agape. Draco ran a hand down his midnight blue robe, re-sorting himself. "I have the Malfoy bonding rings." He held out a small black box. Neville smiled and nodded. Draco handed the box to Blaise, who gave the second ring to Harry.

"Now that we have that sorted. Draco, Neville, stand here—and there." He pointed them to a spot on either side before him. Blaise and Harry took their places. "You lot are here to witness the bonding of Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. Draco, are you here of your own free will?"

"I am."

"Neville, are you here of your own free will?"

"I am."

"Do you both promise to uphold the bond in its breadth and depth until one or both of you shall pass?"

"I do." Neville's voice was quiet, but firm.

"I do." Draco hesitated, but after the determined look on Neville's face, and remembering his own reasons for making the match, said his part with confidence.

"Draco, put your ring on Neville to complete the bond." Draco reached back to Blaise, who handed him a beautiful dragon-scale band which glowed pearlescent in the light. It was highlighted by a single emerald, which flickered deeply in the candlelight. He reached out for Neville's hand. Neville offered it, and Draco slid the ring on. He watched as Neville shivered when the ring re-sized to him.

"Neville, put your ring on Draco to complete the bond." Harry was already placing the ring in Neville's hand, sure to close his fingers around it so it wasn't dropped. Neville grinned at him. When Neville turned back, Draco's hand was out and waiting. He gripped the palm, sliding the ring on slowly. Draco's ring had a fierce dragon that swirled around the wide band; the emerald on this ring was held between the dragon's teeth. Neville rubbed his thumb across the dragon's head, closing his eyes as he felt the bond's magic drop in place between them. Draco's eyes widened for a moment before letting his hand drop.

"Kiss or not. I don't bloody care. I've got my bar to get back to. Harry has the paperwork. He'll file it in the morning." They all stood staring at one another as Aberforth slammed the door behind him.

"Tell me you aren't planning on spending your first night married here?" Blaise looked between the newly married couple, aghast. Harry burst out laughing.

"Well, no. I didn't rent the room. We just borrowed it." Neville scratched behind his ear, looking down at the floor.

"Don't worry, Neville. I'm sure Draco has plans to take you back to his flat." Harry looked at Blaise.

"I think it's time we left, don't you?"

"C'mon, Harry. Don't you want to watch?" Blaise winked, but let Harry grab him by the arm and lead him out. That left Draco and Neville standing in room number four of the Hog's Head, newly bonded, and completely at a loss for words.

"It's done then."

"Yeah." Neville shrugged a little, unsure what sort of response Draco was looking for.

"Shall we?" This time, the brunette looked up. Uncertainty was written in his eyes. He nodded. Draco stepped forward and crowded him a bit before placing a hand on his arm and apparating them to his flat.

Side-along apparition was a bit dizzying. It took Neville a minute to steady himself. Once he got his bearings, he noticed Draco was already moving away from him toward a decanter with—he was hoping—something strong. Two glasses were filled and carried. One was handed to Neville; the other raised in a sort of somber salute.

"To marriage." A smirk danced across Draco's face now. Neville was unsure how to respond.

"To… to making choices our own." Draco cocked his head at that, but clinked Neville's glass and downed the liquid fire. His partner followed quickly after.

Soon after Neville's glass was empty, Draco's slender fingers wrapped around it, carefully pulling it from his grasp. Neville's breathing stuttered. The glass was discarded on a nearby table along with its mate. Draco leaned forward, running his nose along the stubble of Neville's chin. A deep inhale and all he could smell was the whiskey and something uniquely Neville. It was deep, a tad musky, and rather woodsy. Burnt, almost. Much like an amalgam of ash, sweat, and skin baked in the sun.

Their kiss was the ignition of all things Neville and Draco. Deep woods and minty pine. Whiskey was the lubrication to their tongues as they danced in the candlelight of the flat, exploring lips, teeth, and mouth until they were lost to the rhythm of their combined breathing. Several times, Draco's rough grabbing was bested by the sheer strength from Neville's broad, sweeping shoulders. Clothing was shed in haste on the way to the bedroom, without much regard to location or walking. Neville stumbled, but caught himself against the wall, only to have Draco chuckle at him and lick a stripe up the side of his neck again.

Although less glamorous than the manor, Draco's bedroom was a stately affair. The bed was slung between a large frame of gilded black dragons, maws proudly clutching emeralds at each post. Sheets of deepest wine draped beneath a midnight comforter. Several pillows were strewn about carefully. The entire thing rested atop a cream rug, which Neville's toes sunk into delightfully. Eyes closed, he walked backward just until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Once there, he sunk onto it agonizingly slow. When his body was splayed out for Draco like the most appetizing pastry in a bed of chocolate, he looked back toward his husband.

Draco stalked forward, eyes black as the bedclothes beneath his soon-to-be lover. He slithered atop the man lying there, leaving a trail of nips and caresses in his wake. Neville's body was broad beneath him. Draco paid special attention to the nipples that pearled at each flick and the spot just below his collarbone, which elicited a superbly luscious moan. Just as he backed off to remove Neville's trousers, he caught the man's eyes. There was something there, a look of hesitation perhaps. He tried to ignore it and dug his fingers around the material of Neville's pants, pulling them roughly over hips that struggled to help him. It was a rough go of getting them off, but he managed. Draco summoned the jar he kept in his bedside table. He didn't look at Neville; instead, he tried to settle himself between muscular thighs that seemed reluctant to move. When Draco opened the jar, dipped a finger in, and began to move downward, Neville caught his shaking arm.

"Draco?" The blonde refused to look up. "Look at me." Neville's thumb rubbed the pulse point just inside his wrist. After a moment of nothing but steady breathing, Draco looked at him. "Thank you." Neville smiled, that winning smile that could steal any man's heart. "If you're not ready for this, then we don't have to."

"We're bonded. We need to complete the bond."

"Don't use that as an excuse. What's wrong?" Draco sat back on his heels now, what had been a lovely erection now flagging.

"What's wrong? Look at us." He gestured to the room, the bed, and then the two of them. "We just rushed into a marriage that I highly doubt either of us wants because our families say we need to be married, to have an heir. What you don't know about mummy dearest is that there are also other restrictions on the Malfoy lineage. If there is not an heir by the time I reach the age of twenty-six—how fucking arbitrary, twenty-six—then I not only lose my inheritance, but my bloody name, as well. I will no longer be a Malfoy. I will lose everything, Neville. Everything." At this point, Draco had slumped over and put his palms to his forehead. Neville couldn't quite tell, but the sharp intake of breath sounded like gentle sobbing. Neville reached out a hand to cup his chin.

"Draco, listen to me. We did this for many reasons, not the least of which are to appease our families. I'm okay with being what you need right now. Someday, Draco, this— _I_ need to be what you want. Do you think we can work on that?" Neville paused, waiting for some sort of response. Draco nodded into the palm of Neville's hand. He received a kiss to each knuckle for his effort. "Look, I noticed that Blaise left us a present. Do you want me to take it now, or do you want to wait?"

Draco looked over to the table. There, in a sky blue vial, glistened a potion. Beneath the potion was Blaise's frantic scrawl that read, " _Happy babies- B &H_" Draco didn't hesitate. He grabbed the vial, had it uncorked, and down his throat before Neville had time to blink.

"I guess we need to switch some things around." Draco just stared at him.

"If we're doing this, then we're doing this my way." It was Neville's turn to stare. Draco scooted back on the bed, shifting so that he lay on his stomach.

"Fine by me." The words were muffled as Neville reached for the discarded jar, setting it close to Draco's hip. He spent several minutes familiarizing himself with the man's back, sides, and hips before dropping a single finger down to his prize.

When Draco was relaxed, Neville dipped his finger into the jar, covering it and then moving back into place as he swirled around the bud, dipping gently in a few times before sliding in completely. Draco arched against his hand, more so when a second finger was added. Just as Neville caught a rhythm, he curled downward, holding on to Draco's hips as he writhed and moaned. The preparation continued, Neville's other hand stimulating Draco's spine with feathered touches. Right when he found a particularly sensitive spot, a third finger pushed in. A gasp accompanied this and Neville stilled for a moment to let him adjust. Draco signaled that he was ready by relaxing, letting his hold of the sheets go for a minute. There was a slight hiss as Neville's fingers slid out, then in, then out again. Neville's retreat was both surprising and devastating as he waited for what came next.

Draco felt the bed dip just a bit more near his hips. The jar moved against his skin, then disappeared. When next he felt something, it was a whisper of lips at the back of his neck before Neville trailed gentle kisses down his spine. Draco arched into them, relishing in the uncomfortable silence. He felt thighs move solidly between his own, a hard presence slung between his legs that was not his own.

One hand reached down, gently brushing against Draco's exposed flesh before taking his cock in hand and moving forward. The first push was intense for both of them, as it was an intrusion on every level. Draco's head came back to rest harshly against his lover's shoulder. Neville reached down and licked up Draco's neck while he pushed steadily forward, listening to the deep groan it elicited. Fully seated, he paused. Draco's breathing consisted of fast, shallow pants. Neville was trying to contain himself as they began rocking together.

Long, slow thrusts that dragged his cock along Draco's prostate drove them both mad. Neville found several opportunities to grip a bit harder, to bite deeper into the flesh before him. He could feel Draco pushing back, looking for more. Neville reached around, fingers wrapped securely around the weeping, neglected shaft. He felt the shudder from the man beneath him and the impending climax that stole conscious thought from them both. Feeling the pulse of Draco's orgasm over his hand and around his cock, Neville allowed his own release. He leaned his forehead between Draco's shoulders, listening to the unsteady breath of his lover, his husband.

Neville's arms clung to Draco, bringing them both to the bed so they spooned on their sides.

"My mother won't be happy about this, you know."

"Your mother should be very happy. After all, she can't deny that our first child will be a Malfoy." Neville wrapped his arm around Draco's waist when the blonde huffed in indignation, placing a kiss on his bare shoulder. He couldn't conceal the smile, nor the single tear that fell.

* * *

 **Reviews: Anything**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	14. Dance Amongst the Stones (Number 13)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Dance Amongst the Stones (Number 13)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance**

 **Pairing: Andromeda Tonks/Xenophilius Lovegood**

 **Trigger Warnings: Sex, Mention of death, including miscarriage**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Dance Amongst the Stones**

* * *

Moonlight washed over the ancient stones casting long, ominous shadows. Despite being the end of June, there was a distinct chill in the air when Andromeda stepped closer to the stone circle. She was not supposed to be there. Every single cell in her body screamed out at her to turn around and run back home. How many times had her father warned his three daughters to stay as far away from the stones only a few miles from their Dorset manor over the course of their lifetimes? Far too many to keep track of certainly. Cygnus Black claimed that they were locations of primordial fae magic that they should stay away from. No good ever came from traipsing amongst the stones.

"You're not afraid, are you, Andy?" teased Bellatrix.

Andromeda stood to her fullest height, stuck her chest out and sniffed. She would not give her elder sister the satisfaction of knowing she was terrified out of her mind. Bellatrix liked to seek out weaknesses to exploit them to her own benefit. Even immediate family members were not immune to her personal brand of torment. She might have only been seventeen years old, but Bella was not a witch to be trifled with.

"Of course not," Andromeda insisted in her most imperious air. "I am simply bored. Would you please hurry up with your plans so we may leave?"

Bellatrix laughed, no doubt not believing her fifteen year old sister's insistence in the slightest. Since returning from her sixth year of Hogwarts only a few days prior, Andromeda's older sister had spoken of nothing but a spell she wanted to perform as soon as she was able. Honestly it surprised Andromeda to have stumbled upon her sister intently reading multiple books in the school library over the previous year. Bella was a woman of action, not of revision. She achieved passable grades because she had no desire to waste her time with her nose in a book. If applied, she might have even achieved the highest marks of her year. She was far from stupid. Instead she applied herself to being the biggest bully in the castle.

"This spell is supposed to work best two days after the Summer Solstice," Bellatrix explained.

"Trixie, I don't think we should be here. Father will be so angry."

"You can go home whenever you want, Andy. No one is _forcing_ you to be here."

Satisfied with her position just behind one of the largest of the standing stones, Bellatrix crouched down on the ground. Andromeda was too frightened to follow her example. She could _feel_ the magic swirling around them in the air. It was Old Magick, the kind that their grandmothers used to whisper about when they thought none of the girls were listening. Every hair on her body stood up when the waves of energy and power washed over her skin.

Either not experiencing the same feelings that her younger sister was or simply not caring, Bellatrix began to pull vials of random ingredients out of her robe pockets. She had been very secretive about just what kind of spell she was performing. Andromeda could only imagine. Some of the books that she caught her sister reading were clearly from the Restricted Section. Most of what Bella pulled out of her robes were common ingredients she had seen time and time again in a potions lesson. She tried to convince herself that her older sister was simply trying to figure out a more effective way to rid herself of the spots that seemed to plague her otherwise porcelain complexion.

It was not until she pulled out an empty vial and one of Father's silver blades that Andromeda could no longer deny that what was about to happen was much more serious than simple personal hygiene. Just what sort of magic was her sister getting involved with? There were hundreds of spells that required a blood sacrifice, few of them good. Blood magic was strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic for that very reason. A person's blood in the hands of the wrong witch or wizard could be disastrous.

Bellatrix began mixing several of the ingredients in a small glass bowl she pulled out of her pocket. Every single noise Andromeda heard made her jump. Though she was still underage, she had her wand out and ready to curse, if necessary. All of the vials were dumped into the bowl when Bellatrix lifted the sleeve of her robe to expose the creamy flesh of her left bicep.

"What are you doing, Trixie?" her younger sister demanded. She was unable to simply sit by while she watched her sister mutilate her own body without understanding why she was doing it to begin with.

"Never you mind," she snapped back.

Understanding that she would not get a suitable response from her sister, Andromeda resumed her visual scanning of the location. No one was entirely certain what the massive stones arranged in a circle in the middle of the countryside were for, but there were plenty of theories. Muggles believed them to be outdoor temples made by pagans hundreds, possibly thousands of years ago. Women dressed in bedsheets frequently found their way to the circle and others like them to dance and sing to their strange gods. Andromeda's father warned them that the area was a sacred place filled with faeries who would steal away young witches. She knew enough at her tender age to know that he was simply trying to frighten his daughters away from the area, but she did wonder after feeling the power in the air if there might not have been at least a grain of truth to his words.

The sound of heavy footsteps caused both girls to jump. Bellatrix was on her feet with her wand pointed in the direction of the disturbance within moments. Andromeda's wand arm trembled with fear. When the figure they both recognized from school entered the stone circle at least twenty meters away from their location, they both calmed down enough to drop their wands.

"It's that nutter Lovegood," Bellatrix hissed in a whisper. "The Ravenclaw. Just left Hogwarts."

Andromeda knew the wizard though he was a few years older. He always wandered through the castle with a perpetually dreamy expression on his face speaking about creatures that could not possibly exist. Always willing to have a conversation with anyone, regardless of their age or their House, she had actually spoken to him more than once about some kind of being he called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Though she certainly did not believe such an animal existed, even if the wilds of Sweden, she politely smiled while he described everything about it from their ideal habitats to their favorite foods. When he pressed the latest copy of his father's tabloid magazine into her hand, she accepted it without hesitation. Hidden in the closed curtains of her four-poster bed later that night, she read the publication from front to back. None of her previous opinions that the boy was a bit unhinged were changed from the thorough read.

"He's going to ruin _everything_. I'm going to hex him."

Her older sister made it three steps away before Andromeda was able to stop her by pulling on her arm. A physical fight with Bellatrix never ended well, but she could not stand by while an innocent person was hexed for being somewhere he had every right to be. The unexpected and simple act of defiance shocked Bellatrix greatly. Neither of her sisters ever stood up to her when she set her mind to something. She almost did not know how to respond. A sharp slap to Andromeda's face made the younger witch's eyes fill up with hot, embarrassed tears.

"Fine. If you can't bear to watch me hex Lovegood, then you can just stay here by yourself. I'm going to find another circle. Roddy told me there's one not far from his house. Good luck figuring out how to get home."

Without listening to a single protest from Andromeda, Bellatrix Disapparated away from the area with a loud crack. The tears that were falling from her eyes because of the physical pain still stinging her cheek were quickly followed by tears of anger and fear. She was underage and did not know how to Apparate. They lived miles away. How was she going to get home? Father would be so angry that Trixie's slap would be nothing in comparison to the pain she would experience when she managed to find her way back.

"Are you all right?"

Andromeda spun around in place swiftly. Too swiftly. She lost her balance and fell directly onto Xenophilius' lean chest. His hands reached out to grasp her arms to push her gently back onto her feet. In the few moments it took her to compose herself enough to answer his question, she focused on the odd, yet comforting mixture of smells invading her nostrils. The sharp scents of citrus, grass and a combination of several floral scents she could not place made her head feel a bit woozy. Who knew that the odd Ravenclaw smelled so heavenly?

"I did not mean to disturb you, Mr. Lovegood. My sister left me abruptly on my own."

"Do you need assistance?"

Andromeda raised herself to her full height once more. With her shoulders back and her chest puffed proudly forward, she thanked him for his concern but assured him she would be all right. As the shock of being left alone began to wear off, she formulated a plan. If she could get far enough away from the stone circle on foot that no one would suspect she'd ever been there, she could summon one of the family's house-elves to take her home. Maybe she could even convince them to lie to her father.

"What are you doing here anyway? My father says this place is dangerous."

"It is only dangerous if you don't understand the forces you are dealing with. I've been coming here since I was a child with my mother."

She really needed to leave. Needed to distance herself from the area before the moon rose too much higher. Her curiosity always got the better of her senses. Perhaps she should have been a Ravenclaw instead of a Slytherin.

"Why?"

Xenophilius smiled at her simple question. He was an odd wizard certainly, but more than a few girls at school had made the comment that he would be an _interesting_ person to take to bed. His blue eyes caught the moonlight making them almost twinkle in the darkness.

"I come here to mourn."

His simple five words were at odds with the smile still exposing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. Andromeda did not understand. When her Grandmother Irma died three years earlier, the entire family wore black robes and sat in the stuffy parlor of her Aunt Walburga's townhouse to silently stare at relatives no one had spoken to in years. Xenophilius was dressed in a flowing white robe with no shoes. Perhaps his family mourned differently than hers.

"Muggles believe these circles hold the most power at the Summer Solstice and the Winter Solstice," he explained. "They're wrong. There is a reason why so many of the old spells call for them to be performed two days after the Summer Solstice…"

Andromeda's thoughts strayed directly to Bellatrix. Where was she? What kind of spell was she attempting? Was it dangerous? Old Magick was nothing to fool around with. There were hundreds of cautionary tales advising wizards and especially witches to be careful.

"Can you feel the magic in the air, Andromeda?"

She was startled by him addressing her by her first name. Somehow she just assumed he would not be able to remember the name of someone so much younger. She was grateful for the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.

"It does feel strange here," she admitted.

"This is the night that the magic is strongest. I come here every year to remember my mother."

A touch of sadness crossed his distinctive features. All at once Andromeda felt like an intruder on the man's solitude. Remembering one's loved ones was a private affair. Andromeda made her excuses. As she walked away from the circle to the path that would lead to the road Muggles traveled on in their motorized contraptions, she felt a pair of eyes on her back. She turned around right before her feet touched the road. Xenophilius was still watching her, a small smile still on his lips. Andromeda raised her hand to wave goodbye. He returned the gesture.

She was at least a quarter of a mile away from the area when her curiosity got the better of her once more that evening. Andromeda stopped walking away from the stone circle. Without dwelling too long on her decision or on the possible consequences of being caught in the prohibited area, she spun around and headed back. The moment the stones were back in her line of sight, she slowed her steps to sneak back without drawing any notice. There was a large tree not but a few feet away from the stones. She hid her slim figure behind the trunk of the massive elm.

A quiet gasp escaped her mouth when she saw Xenophilius Lovegood once again. She quickly covered her mouth hoping he had not heard it. The assumed mortification the older wizard would feel knowing she was spying on him was too much to bear. In the time that she walked away and returned, Xenophilius at some point removed his robes. With his arms held high above his head, the eccentric wizard danced in circles naked and completely without shame.

Andromeda had never seen a naked man before. It was a bit of a shock. In all of her fifteen years there had never been an occasion to see one. Even when her cousins Sirius and Regulus were babies and they needed their nappies changed, she was always shooed from the room lest her delicate eyes see something they shouldn't. She could feel her face burn the longer she stared at his long, lean limbs.

Xenophilius was perfection chiseled out of human flesh. He was built like the marble statues that lined the gardens of her grandfather's country manor. Eighteen years old without a mark or blemish on his entire body. And Andromeda looked. By Merlin, she looked over every square millimeter of his pale skin on display. Her virginal eyes lingered a bit longer than she would ever admit to on the part of his body she had only seen in drawings in the stuffy, old anatomy books Father kept hidden on the top shelf of their family library. Though she had no real-life experience to compare it to, she felt certain that what Xenophilius normally kept hidden in his trousers was something to be proud of.

Realizing she had been staring at the man's penis for much longer than what would have been considered polite, Andromeda forced her head up to watch his movements _above_ the waist. His head was thrown back; his face awash in moonlight. Pure joy radiated from his features. The dance he danced amongst the stones was only a simple waving of his arms and twirling of his body, but Andromeda was mesmerized. She could have stood behind that tree trunk and watched him for hours. He claimed he was mourning his mother. Watching his dance made her believe that perhaps his method of remembering his lost loved one was better than sitting around in starched robes sipping tea in silence. It was beautiful and with the intense magic floating around her, she was overcome with emotion. Tears rolled down her cheeks freely. Afraid she would miss something, she did not dare wipe them off until her eyes grew too full to see.

"Do you need help getting home?"

His soft voice cutting through the stillness of the night startled Andromeda. While she had been wiping her eyes on her sleeves, Xenophilius completed his dance and discovered her hiding place. She did not want to face him. Clearly she had seen him completely naked. He was probably feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little violated. She hazarded a glance in his direction. Immediately she dropped her gaze back to the ground.

Xenophilius was not ashamed of his nakedness in the slightest. He stood proudly in front of the blushing witch without a hint of shame. The tiniest smirk on his lips led Andromeda to believe that he was enjoying making her cheeks flame red.

"I did not mean to intrude," she stuttered. "I should head back home."

He quickly threw his white robe over his head and chased after the fleeing witch. His hand caught her elbow just before she made it to the road again. She did not want to stop and face the man, especially after it was clear she had been watching him in what was a very private moment.

"Let me make sure you get home all right, Andromeda. It can be very dangerous for a young witch on her own."

She could not argue with his statement. It was the truth. How many times had she heard her father warn her of the depravity of Muggles? They were more likely rape and torture a witch than to help her. She was afraid to be caught alone.

Xenophilius offered his arm. She gripped it tightly, trying and failing to keep her mind from wandering to scenes from a short time earlier.

oOoOoOo

Three full years would pass before Andromeda even considered returning to the stone circle. She finished her seventh year of Hogwarts only days before the Summer Solstice. Life inside her father's house had grown cold and tiresome. Cygnus Black was of the opinion that all Pureblood witches should be married immediately after finishing school. Andromeda failed to secure a marriage on her own and he felt it was up to him to find a suitable mate on her behalf. She was terrified of what barmy, old coot he might discover hidden under some rock.

At the last minute, only minutes before the moon rose, she made the decision to return. Xenophilius Lovegood found a joy and a solace within those stones. Maybe she could too. Sneaking out of the manor became easier with practice. Andromeda was outside the gates before anyone even knew she was gone.

Xenophilius was already there. Dressed in the same white robe she saw him in years earlier, he smiled when she suddenly appeared just outside the circle. Beckoning her over to him with a simple wave of his hand, he invited her to join.

She wanted to be brave and join him. Frequently her mind traveled back to that night when she was just fifteen. He had been so content, so at peace. Though she longed to experience what he had, she was shy. Only one man had ever seen her naked before and he claimed it was an accident. Over the last winter break her brother-in-law Rodolphus walked in on her in the bath. She did not believe for one second that he did not do it on purpose. He always made her uncomfortable staring at her as if she was some kind of prey and he was the hunter.

Andromeda decided to put all her fear and shame aside. Remembering the pure joy on Xenophilius' face when he was dancing was all the encouragement she needed. She removed every single stitch of clothing from her body before she could talk herself out of it. Xenophilius cleared his throat and almost immediately closed his eyes at the sight of her nakedness. Andromeda felt mortified.

When Xenophilius open his eyes again, his entire expression was altered. It was similar to how she had seen Rodolphus look at her, except instead of feeling afraid, she felt excited. Xenophilius took a few more deep breaths before removing his robe. Andromeda could tell that her presence was having an effect on his body. He was still the only naked man she had ever seen, but she'd heard girls in her dorm talk about what happened when they got aroused.

She could already feel the sheer power rolling through the air around them. It was a heady feeling. Xenophilius seemed to have regained control over his traitorous body once more. Following his lead, Andromeda raised her hands above her head and began twirling in large circles around the stones.

Once a girl in her dorm snuck in an entire bottle of fire whiskey. Having no experience with spirits, Andromeda gulped down more than she should have. Her head spun and she felt giddy. Dancing in the stone circle was similar to being intoxicated except infinitely better. All worries and cares fell off within moments. Her face split into the widest grin she could remember ever having. Magical was not a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling.

Time had no meaning as they danced. Minutes might have passed or entire days. Their movements began to slow the longer they were exposed to the Old Magick. Andromeda reluctantly stopped when Xenophilius placed a gentle hand on her bare shoulder.

"My mother said that if you dance too long, the faeries will make it so you can never stop dancing."

"How do you know when to stop?"

Xenophilius cleared his throat again. He actually seemed uncomfortable which surprised her greatly. Part of her believed he could never feel awkward.

"You know to stop when it starts to feel _too_ good, like you're about to…"

She witnessed another event she never thought to see in her lifetime. Xenophilius Lovegood was blushing. It took her a moment to understand why. Suddenly grasping exactly what he was trying to say, she joined him with her own blushes.

"Oh," was all she could say in reply. How exactly was one supposed to freely discuss orgasms with a practical stranger? That was certainly not how proper Pureblood witches were raised.

All redness gone from Xenophilius' cheeks, he stepped closer to his dancing partner. Andromeda felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. Could he hear it pounding too? He lifted his hand to brush against her cheek. She held her breath.

"Dancing is not the only way one can experience the magic of this place," he whispered, leaning his head down closer to hers.

Andromeda would never be sure even years later if her breath was completely stolen away by his first kiss or the swirling, ancient magic filling the night air. It did not really matter. Xenophilius' lips caressing hers caused a tingle to flow through every single cell in her body unlike even the dancing was capable of producing. She ran her hands up his firm and toned stomach and past his lean chest to rest around his neck. Feeling emboldened by her hands on his body, Xenophilius did the same. His hands snaked around her waist to rest on the small of her back.

She had kissed a boy or two but they simply did not compare. He gently nudged her mouth open to invade with his tongue. Just as she could not identify the sweet scents that clung to his clothes and long, blond hair, she was unable to describe how he tasted. All her incoherent mind could come up with was he tasted like she never wanted to stop kissing him.

Maybe it was the magic causing her to feel intoxicated and her inhibitions lowered. Or it was the latent streak of rebellion she felt defying her mother's repeated admonishments that good girls never allowed a man to take liberties before they were properly wed. Maybe it was how Xenophilius looked at her when his blue eyes looked over her naked body. Possibly it was a combination of all three. Andromeda broke the heated kiss much to Xenophilius' apparent disappointment. Removing her hands from where they were entangled in his hair, Andromeda reached for one of his hands.

She lay down in the thick grass, pulling Xenophilius down with her. Realizing her pulling away was not a rejection at all but a clear invitation to more, the wizard's kisses grew more ardent and more creative. He started with her lips, moved to her neck and licked down to her chest. She could never be sure which sensations he caused with the flick of his tongue and which ones the magic was responsible for.

A deep moan shattered the silence of the sacred circle the moment his warm mouth closed over one of her hardened nipples. She felt a stirring within her belly that she had never experienced in such intensity. Encouraged and perhaps emboldened by her cries, Xenophilius' mouth travelled from left breast to right breast and then back to left. As he repeated the ministrations that were making the young woman writhe beneath him, his hand slipped down her taut stomach to the part of her body she had been instructed to shield at all cost her entire life. She flinched only slightly when the first digit swept through her folds. It surprised her to find that the act she had performed on herself more times than she could count felt so completely different when done by another hand.

Xenophilius' mouth continued its downward journey. Gossip amongst the girls in Slytherin House only slightly prepared her for the moment his mouth latched onto her sodden core. She had always been told to never expect the act to be performed on her and if it was, she was not to anticipate that it would be any good. Her expectations were blown away within the first minute. Every sensation was heightened in the whirling magic. Andromeda fisted two handfuls of grass in an effort to remain grounded. She was certain with each swirl of his tongue, each suck of his lips that she was going to float away never to be seen again. One finger and then a second inside her tight body combined with the fervent attention with his mouth were too much to bear. A guttural scream tore through her body. He wrapped his arm around her hips to keep her rooted to the earth while she rode out the tremors on his proud, smiling face.

Before he sat back up from his reclining position, Xenophilius kissed the inside of each of her thighs. His mouth moved down each of her legs, nipping at the sensitive spot behind each knee. He did not stand completely, simply sat up on his feet. Andromeda watched him through her heavy eyes, almost afraid to discover what he planned next. Tapping her on the stomach with his wand was not what she expected. Repeating the same movement on his own stomach, Xenophilius tossed his wand back to the general direction of his discarded robe.

"The magic here tonight makes everyone fertile," he explained.

"Oh. Oh!"

She tried to sit up when the implications of his words made their mark. The last thing she needed to worry about was an unplanned pregnancy. She would be thrown out of her father's house for certain. Sensing her anxiety, Xenophilius lay on the grass next to her and pulled her frame into his arms.

"We do not have to go any further than this if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, I _want_ to. I just… I just have never…"

He covered her mouth with his before she could worry herself into a full-blown panic. Only a few short kisses and she was no longer afraid. Somehow she knew that he would never hurt her. Xenophilius carefully lowered her to the ground on her back. More kisses down the length of her body followed. He settled himself between her legs. She was anxious that it was going to hurt.

"Just look at me, Andromeda."

Staring into his blue eyes helped with her fear. He slid into her body slowly, never rushing his movements. She gasped at the initial intrusion, but quickly discovered that all of the girls she roomed with were wrong. Or perhaps she had a more thoughtful partner who cared more for her discomfort than just jamming his cock into her body at his own pace.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded without hesitation. Slowly with his hands on her hips, he tenderly began a rhythm of almost completely exiting her body and then sliding carefully back in. It felt strange at first, but as the minutes ticked by, as he never took his eyes from hers, she was no longer afraid. Her body adjusted to him before much time had passed. She was hesitant at first to meet his thrusts with one of her own, but the first time she made him moan with only a simple motion of her hips, she found her confidence.

Exactly as it had been when they were dancing, time had no meaning while their bodies were joined together. It did not take long before they were held within the thrall of the Old Magick. Sensations were much stronger. Xenophilius intertwined his fingers with hers and held her hands to the ground on the outside of her head. The intensity and the passion steadily grew. They gave over to the magic of the stone circle, losing themselves in each other until their mutual screams ripped through the night air.

oOoOoOo

Andromeda carried the secret of the only time she made love with Xenophilius Lovegood around without ever divulging it to anyone. Every single year she was tempted to return to the stone circle when the Summer Solstice came and went. Some years she gave in to the call of the magic.

Two years after her Nymphadora was born she had her first miscarriage. She and her husband had been overjoyed with the prospect of having another child in the house. Within the first couple of months of her pregnancy she knew something was wrong. When she came to at St. Mungo's covered in her own blood, she feared her heart would not recover from the break. She danced within the circle for the first time since she was eighteen. Out of respect for her status as a happily married woman, they danced for the first time still wearing their robes.

Four years after that she returned to dance away her grief at the loss of her day old son. She almost did not go, but the aching anguish became too much to bear. Six months after she and Ted buried their child, she twirled and twirled as if her heart would break. Though she still mourned and would never forget the beautiful baby boy, she could feel some relief. At least enough to keep her head up and keep herself strong for her husband and her daughter.

She would not go back for another eleven years. A small article in The Daily Prophet described the tragic death of a witch named Pandora Lovegood. Her heart ached for the wizard and their young daughter. For the second time in her life she hid behind the trunk of the elm tree watching the man in his flowing white robes dance in the circle with his tiny little girl. It no longer felt like a place she should return. She felt like an intruder once more.

The war had been over for a little more than a year when she thought of the stone circle again. There had been so much tragedy in her life in such a short time that if she did not have her little grandson Teddy to rely on her, she might have been tempted to do something foolish, like fling herself into the Veil. Two days after the Summer Solstice she felt an odd tingling in her nerves. Almost as if the stone circle was calling out for her to return. All day she tried to ignore the feeling to no avail.

After dropping off her grandson at his godfather's house, she stood on the London pavement and tried to convince herself to not go. Finally, she closed her eyes and with all of the determination she could muster, spun in place. The instant she opened her eyes she felt a wash of peace flow over her entire body. She could have burst into tears right then. The strange tingling dissipated. She was where she needed to be.

"I waited for you last summer."

Xenophilius' familiar voice startled her out of her own mind. Andromeda turned towards the wizard. He stood alone in the center of the circle dressed in the same white robe she had seen him in every time she made the same journey. A small smile on his face made him look every bit the eighteen year old boy waving to her as she ran away at fifteen.

"I was not ready to come," she answered.

In an almost identical move to the first time she danced with him, Xenophilius beckoned her to him with a single wave of his hand. She felt almost powerless to resist moving her feet. When they were close enough to touch, he reached out to kiss both of her cheeks. The rush of heat to her face made her think of what a silly girl she once was. She was too old to blush like a schoolgirl.

"Are you ready now?"

Four words that held more meaning than she could describe. _Was_ she ready now? Was she ready to release the anger she had been hoarding like a miser hoards his gold? Was she ready to let go of the pain that ate at her gut every second of the day? Was she ready to forgive her sister and every single person responsible for wreaking havoc on her life? Was she ready to move on and learn to live again?

She bent down to grasp the hem of her robe. In one swift motion she pulled it over her head. Standing naked and exposed in front of the man for the second time in her life, she did not miss the way his blue eyes raked over her flesh with a smirk of appreciation.

"I don't look the same as I did thirty years ago," she said, feeling self-conscious with every second that passed.

Xenophilius removed his own robe. He might not have been as firm in some places as he once was and he had developed a hint of a belly, but to Andromeda, he was still lovely. Once undressed, he reached for her hand. She did not hesitate to take it.

"You were an attractive girl, but you are an even more beautiful woman."

They danced longer than they had ever danced before. There was more pain and sorrow than there ever had been. She opened herself up to allow the Old Magicks to flow through her body, healing where it could. It was almost possible in those all too few moments within the circle to forget the pain she had endured since the moment her Ted walked out of the door. Almost possible to forget that when she went home it would be to a house empty of every single person she once shared it with. Except for Teddy, of course. He brought her joy with every giggle and every change of his hair color. Placing the burden of her happiness on the small child was not fair to anyone.

Xenophilius was the one to stop her from dancing herself into eternity. A soft touch on her shoulder brought all of the memories crashing back on her at a staggering rate. She was the one to kiss him first, the one to push him back to the ground. Just as they lost themselves in their dancing, once again they lost themselves in each other.

When they lay on the ground afterwards recovering from their exertions, she felt the past reminders of her pain begin to creep up on her once more. She feared that they would never leave her alone completely. Would she be forced to walk the Earth forever doomed to feel nothing but emptiness and sorrow? Xenophilius' arm wound around her waist, pulling her against his chest. He kissed her ruffled hair.

"From the second that Pandora died, I have felt like less of the man I used to be," he declared, his voice soft and quiet. "I will always miss her. I will always love her, but when I am in this circle with you, Andromeda, it doesn't hurt _as_ much. Is it just the magic of this place? Or is it you?"

She kissed his bare chest with a swift peck. Her own treacherous mind had been wondering the same thoughts about him.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "Perhaps we need to leave this circle to figure that out."

Hours later when the sun began to peek over the horizon, they disentangled their naked limbs from each other. They had lost count the number of times they made love under the light of the moon. Neither one of them wanted to give up the chance to experience the lessening of their pain if it was all just related to the magic. After dressing in their simple robes, Andromeda placed her hand in his. Together they stepped out of the stone circle.

* * *

 **Reviews: Positive Only**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	15. Between the Greenhouse and(Number 14)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Between the Greenhouse and the Pumpkin Patch (Number 14)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Friendship/Romance**

 **Pairing: Rubeus Hagrid/Pomona Sprout**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Between the Greenhouse and the Pumpkin Patch**

* * *

 **Monday 9th October, 1989**

 **Hogwarts Grounds, 8.45am**

The keeper of the keys drew himself up to standing, his larger-than-normal stature becoming increasingly more prominent.

"Awright there, Pomona?"

"Oh yes, thank you Hagrid, just on my way to check I've enough mandrakes for my second years" Professor Sprout replied with a warm smile.

Returning the sentiment Hagrid flashed the Herbology Professor his own, wide grin before turning back to the mushrooms he was examining.

Pomona hurried on, downhill, her _warm smile_ had grown so large her cheeks hurt. _Oh, Pomona! You silly old woman!_ The witch internally scolded herself. _Stop that right now!_ She managed to rein in her smile slightly hoping she looked no different than her usual, chipper self, and that the blush on her cheeks could be blamed on the brisk Scottish air.

Pomona allowed herself a quick peek back at the groundskeeper. The only part of Hagrid currently visible from Pomona's present angle was his large, robust behind.

In an instant, the blush that had resided on the apples of Pomona's cheeks had spread the entirety of the Professor's face, turning even the tips of her ears a rather bright rouge,a pleased O formed on her mouth, her eyes bigger than a galleon at the sight. Had Pomona been unlucky enough to be the subject of interest to any onlookers at this point they may have attributed her face to the likeness of large, surprised-looking beefsteak tomato.

 _Oh my gosh and golly!_ Pomona frog-marched at as high a speed as she could manage down the hill and didn't stop until she was right outside the door of her destination. Pomona fumbled with her keys for what felt like far too long, until she was finally inside the dewy, green solitude of Greenhouse Three.

 _Silly old woman!_ She repeated internally, before busying herself, as she searched for the box she knew contained the earmuffs essential for today's lesson.

 **Saturday 21st October, 1989**

 **The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade, 12.30pm**

Sitting atop a stool leaning against the Three Broomstick's large bar, Pomona Sprout thanked Rosmerta for her order of gillywater as a not-uncommon pang of jealousy attempted to push itself to the forefront of her mind as she watched the glamorous barmaid's flirtatious demeanor directed towards a number of Wizard-shaped punters. Pomona breathed deeply, sipping her beverage but try as she might she found her brain unwilling to focus its' attention onto her newly acquired copy of _Herbology Quarterly, which was currently resting atop the bar in front of the distracted witch_ , she had read no further than the _Contents_ page, and despite learning that a rather intriguing article, _The Fastest Way to Puff-Up Your Puffapods,_ was currently awaiting her scrutiny on page 12, Pomona found herself gazing sadly at her own wistful reflection in a large dusty mirror, situated hanging upon the wall behind the bar.

Professor Sprout, scanning the image of herself, wondered if it would ever be a possibility for her to view herself as anything other than the dumpy hodgepodge of stained robes and dirty fingernails that she could see... Pomona could see in the Three Broomstick's grubby old looking glass. In fact, the teacher was so engrossed in her own thoughts she did not notice a rather hefty hand set itself down on the bar next to her own.

"Butterbeer, if you please Rosmerta, an' a Firewhiskey chaser if ye'd be so kind"

Startled, Pomona jumped, the angle of the mirror hadn't shown Hagrid's large frame in her view not expecting company at the bar, the witch found herself in an involuntarily flustered state at her colleague's sudden arrival.

 _Honestly, Pomona… known Hagrid for years...nothing changed...this silly...fool._ Her thoughts becoming entirely nonsensical as she pressed her glass of cool gillywater onto one cheek, then the other, in an attempt to counter the impending redness.

"Min' if I join ye' Pomona?"

"Of course-" _startled and horrified in equal measure by the high-pitched squeaky tone her voice had apparently decided to take on, Pomona's eyes widened, her heart began to quicken as she attempted to control her new, unflattering voice-wobbles_. "-Hagrid."

The professor and the greenkeeper stayed in the comfort of each other's company for the better part of three hours that Saturday, Pomona had managed to gain some control over her embarrassing voice squeak; the burning flush on her cheeks had settled into a comfortable rosy tinge, which, _a quick glance in the old mirror assured her_ , was actually a somewhat complementary addition to her regular outdoorsy look.

It was a comfortable discussion, ranging from Dragons to drinks and Dumbledore's new insistence of a cataloging and inspection of all poisonous plants on Hogwarts grounds in order to " _avoid any further Marlene McBoyd instances."_ Marlene McBoyd, a fourth year Hufflepuff, had a particular talent for landing herself in the most peculiar, troubling scenarios had most recently, ended up a captive of a particularly nasty, overgrown Venomous Tentacula. Pomona had found the poor girl swinging like a ragdoll, upside down, having apparently spent the night in the greenhouse, the Tentacula plant being her only company.

Pomona complained about her inability to locate any Azurithiam Fuchsia plants, a task she'd set herself the year before and had so far been unable to locate even one of the incredibly rare seedlings. Pomona realised just how easy Rubeus Hagrid was for her to talk to, as they discussed the rumours that the head of Hufflepuff house Professor Jacklee, had set a date for her impending retirement and looming trip around the world she had been planning as long as anyone had known the Astronomer. Pomona even divulged that she secretly hoped that she would be considered for the position. After discussing the recent news stories coming out of WIzarding Britain, Hagrid mentioned fang... Who had recently, Hagrid had exasperatedly reported, started taking a liking to Hagrid's undergarments. Having located numerous pairs of his pants buried in his pumpkin patch; in Fang's bed; half-chewed in his own bed; and most confusingly, a pair had been located on the roof of his hut, which Hagrid had only been fortunate enough to find as he happened to be cleaning his guttering. Pomona laughed herself to tears at the mention of the pants on Hagrid's roof and ended up choking on her sixth gillywater knocking the glass over. Hagrid thumped Pomona's back with such vigour that, had the witch not been leaning against a solid wooden surface, she would mostly likely have ended up propelled twenty feet forwards.

"OH, Ooops! Sorry 'Mona, ye' alrigh'?", Asked Hagrid, red-faced, through sporadic hiccups. His enormous hand encircled Pomona's upper right arm gently, all traces of the previous humour disbanded as a concerned expression took over his large, hairy face. "I didn' mean to, was jus' tryin' to stop ye' coughin' so much, ye' know?", he slackened his hold on Pomona's arm, she feared, _though she wasn't quite sure why,_ he was about to move it away entirely when she took a breath, unsure how her gesture would be taken, and placed her own small, slightly callous-laden hand atop Hagrid's.

"And I'm most grateful you did." Pomona exclaimed warmly, her heart beginning to race once more, glad she managed to emit the sentence as her breath was slowly catching more and more in her throat.

The two looked upon each other properly, for the first time since Hagrid's arrival at The Three Broomsticks; Hagrid's small eyes; a tiny bit hidden under his overly bushy eyebrows were dark, _almost black, like glistening beetles_ Pomona thought to herself.

"Prob'ly time we, err, headed back to the castle, eh?" Hagrid stammered. His eyes left Pomona's and quickly scanned the rest of the pub, a red hue forming on his own face as it became apparent to the duo, _as Pomona completed a quick scan of her own,_ that they were a subject of great interest to the majority of the pub's current dwellers.

"Oh, yep. Right you are there Hagrid!" Replying promptly, she had quickly become wide-eyed and flustered, not one who enjoyed being the centre of any attentions outside of the Hogwarts' greenhouses. Pomona grabbed her coat, checking quickly her wand was in one of her many pockets and wasted no time moving quickly towards the pub's door; simultaneously pulling her trusted tatty old messenger bag haphazardly over her head as she was met with the brisk, October air.

"So, err, shall we..." Hagrid trailed off sheepishly, gesturing in the general direction of the castle.

Standing on the mostly deserted Hogsmeade street, facing Hogwarts they awkwardly glanced at each other Pomona nodded and the pair set off down the High Street, a comfortable silence closing in around them as they walked the path that connected the school and the neighbouring village.

 **Tuesday 31st October, 1989**

 **Hogwarts Great Hall, 3.15pm**

Professor Dumbledore gazed the length of the Great Hall over his half-moon spectacles, the two were standing side by side in front of the High Table. "Ah, Olde Hallows' Eve is upon us once again Pomona, can you believe?"

"This year has crept up on us" Pomona had to agree, in fact she'd woken up that very morning wondering how it could possibly be only a day away from November.

"I daresay you've heard of Professor Jacklee's plans to retire at the end of the December?" Dumbledore continued "December?" Pomona was surprised "I was under the impression she would stay until the school year ends"

Albus sounded strained, and let out a small sigh"Between you and me, so did I. However-" he continued, his voice brightening, he shot Pomona a sideways knowing glance, "-I seem to recall you were once a member of the house of Hufflepuff, were you not?"

"Yes Albus, I certainly was-" Pomona stood a little straighter, her chest puffed up, "-very proud badger here, Sir."

Professor Dumbledore nodded, his bright blue eyes twinkling under the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling, which was currently as blue as the Headmaster's own eyes. His attention turned to the arrival of Argus Filch. Filch had the thunderous look of one involved in a heated argument. "Good, that's good," Pomona heard Albus mumbling, sounding amused, as Hagrid appeared in the doorway behind Filch, his expression matching the caretaker's perfectly, and the source of Filch's fury became apparent.

Albus turned towards Pomona as he began to move towards the argument. "Well Pomona it has been a pleasantry as always-" the headmaster bowed his head to the Herbology Professor, "-however, it would seem, duty calls." Pomona watched as the headmaster sauntered towards Hagrid and Filch, who had begun to approach Dumbledore, "-not right...just come in...bloody pumpkin innards all over the floors…-" Filch was raving, his arms being thrown wildly "-look...big walloper...Filch...Halloween…-" Hagrid stopped and drew himself to his full height, _which was rather larger than Filch's slim silhouette_ as Filch had clearly gone too far in attempting to grab one the twenty or so enormous, perfectly-rotund pumpkins that Hagrid had brought to the Hall with him.

"GET YOUR MANGY PAW OFF MA PUMPKIN' YOU SLIMY PRAT!" Hagrid roared, as Filch dropped his hand to his side, clearly shaken, yet he still glared daggers at Hagrid. _Lucky for Filch,_ Pomona thought, stifling a giggle , Albus Dumbledore happened to reach the two men at that moment. Pomona couldn't hear any of the headmaster's words but his resolution technique had evidently worked as Filch turned on his heel with a clearly audible "Fine!" and stormed towards the door. , Pomona was certain she heard him say "-..big oaf-" as he rushed on. With a surge of sudden anger she thought, _Oh, you are a slimy prat!_ , as her eyes followed Filch's retreating figure.

 **Tuesday 31st October, 1989**

 **Hogwarts Great Hall, 9.10pm**

The usual countless array of floating candles had been replaced by the customary Halloween pumpkins, which floated high above the five tables that were housed within the Great Hall. Cobwebs burst out of every corner; wall nook and table edge. A number of ghosts floated the length of the Hall and judging by the bouts of startled screaming that could be heard, they were seemingly not troubled at all by the fact they were passing through various students The long tables; one for each House; and one for the Hogwarts faculty, were all crowded by a sea of contented faces of both student and staff member alike. A myriad of mostly empty dishes sat atop the tables and the Hogwarts Halloween feast was approaching an end. Pomona sighed sleepily as she quietly observed the castle occupants.

Sitting between Professors Severus Snape and Bathsheda Babbling, the former wearing a sullen expression that Pomona was inclined to believe meant he was uninterested in idle chit-chat and the latter had a tendency to live up to her surname, which generally made it nigh on impossible to actually participate in any conversation one happened to find themselves involved in with the Study of Ancient Runes Professor.

She watched as Professor Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet, tucking his long, white beard into the belt of his midnight blue robes as he did so before clearing his throat; which, despite the fact it was highly unlikely even the students sat closest to him would have been able to hear, the upbeat buzz of cheerful chatter, which had been constant since the feast began, ceased abruptly. Pomona couldn't help but feel impressed at the level of respect the students clearly held for their headmaster.

A short speech later, in which Dumbledore had kindly yet dismissively insisted the students returned to their House Common Rooms, the Hall was full of noise once more as classmates upped and left, huddled in small groups; a few holding hands; a tall sixth year Ravenclaw pushed his way through a gaggle of First Years, much to Pomona's irritation. She found herself rising as she watched the wide-eyed First Years attempt to navigate the large crowd streaming its' way slowly towards the large doors that lead to the Entrance Hall. Getting ready to tend to the eleven year olds, Pomona was startled when a large something pressed itself into her shoulder. Confused, she turned on the spot to look into the large chest of Rubeus Hagrid. The _large something,_ it turned out, had been Hagrid's left hand.

"Was jus' wonderin' if ye fancied a stroll? The thestrals love a bit o' a midnigh' feast."

Pomona turned back momentarily to where the First Years had been standing, just before, but saw the space now empty and the mass of the crowd rapidly decreasing, she breathed a sigh of relief, logically knowing the First Years had more than likely been absolutely fine.

"Yes-" Pomona found herself beaming back at Hagrid, "-I'd love to Hagrid, that sounds splendid."

Hagrid's bushy face, Pomona couldn't help but notice, visibly lit up at her response. Her hands fumbling with her cape, Pomona felt a strange, yet comforting sensation as Hagrid took the cape from her grasp, and with a surprising amount of care the groundskeeper delicately placed her cape on Pomona's shoulders. She felt his hands linger there a short while, which could have been three seconds or twenty minutes for all Pomona knew, as she found herself hopelessly lost in the dark, yet somehow soothing eyes that had settled themselves directly into her own.

The pair let their gazes drop and they themselves headed towards the main doors, both entirely unaware of the raised eyebrows and shared glances between the other Professors. There were only a few lingering students remaining now; those whose close friends; boyfriends or girlfriends happened to reside in a different House to their own, and therefore an emotional goodbye was due before they could bring themselves to part for the next eleven hours.

 **Tuesday 31st October 1989**

 **Forbidden Forest Outskirts, 10.45pm**

The air of the Scottish Highlands were often fairly chilly in the height of Summer, so at the end of October, at almost eleven pm, it was positively freezing and after the walk down, which Hagrid had offered Pomona his arm, and a short while after, his many-pocketed coat, which Pomona accepted gratefully, the witch was still shivering profusely. The cold had done nothing to dampen her mood however, which was one of pure elation, as she watched Hagrid empty some raw steaks from a large wooden crate onto the ground in front of the duo.

"The fattier the better, as far as a thestral is concerned", he was saying; with a chuckle he added; "Not that it makes a jot o' a difference to the shape o' their bellies, mind." Hagrid pulled out what turned out to be the last of the steaks and turned to Pomona, "Are ye' able to see them?" he asked simply.

"Yes" Pomona replied equally as simple. Hagrid nodded once but did not press the matter further, for which she was grateful.

"They'll come any moment-" Hagrid assured, "-they have barmy sleepin' patterns, thestrals. Did ye' know they don' have one main sleep like us? They catnap through the day. Mad eh?"

"Oh-" Pomona started, genuine interest sparked within her, "-no I didn't know that. You know Hagrid, you should replace Silvanus" She added with a chuckle, which Hagrid mimicked;

"Ah, tha's my dream, ye know? Maybe one day…" Hagrid looked into the forest, his hands placed firmly on his waist. Pomona watched as a large smile broke onto his face; "Oh, here we go!"

She whirled around, so she was facing the same direction Hagrid was and saw, to her amazement, half a dozen thestrals slowly walking towards them. She watched, in complete awe, as Hagrid calmly moved towards the skeletal creatures, a steak grasped in each hand and fed the nearest two. The gamekeeper backed up, grabbing two further steaks and motioned for Pomona to do the same. She picked up two steaks of her own and cautiously approached the thestrals, holding the cuts of meat out in front of her which, to her amazement, were snatched within seconds and gobbled up entirely.

"Well, would you look at that." Pomona breathed, astonished. She'd never given too much thought to thestrals before this night, she knew that they at times got a bad reputation, but she had never believed they were any sort of bad omen. On that cold October night, Pomona saw a quiet beauty in thestrals, and also in the way the man beside her clearly regarded them in the highest esteem.

 **Wednesday 15th November, 1989**

 **Greenhouse Three, Hogwarts, 2.10pm**

The past few weeks had passed in a blur of busy classes, and the usual mundane tasks that Pomona faced in her everyday life as a Hogwarts Professor. There was however, one rather large difference, which took the form of a rather large individual. Pomona and Hagrid had spent as much time together as their busy lives allowed and Pomona failed to remember a time when the company of another person had made her stomach flutter, and her heart fly. The witch felt ten years younger and her soul felt a whole lifetime lighter.

"Right second years, the mandrakes that we repotted are in need of a bit of feeding today-", Pomona paused, a small grin creeping onto her face in spite of herself, as she watched the fear expand onto the faces of her students, more than half the year had managed to sustain a bite from their mandrake. She shook her head softly, and kindly continued, "-they'll be much more cooperative now they've had a bit of time to adjust to their new pots." She gave a particularly scared looking boy standing close to her left an encouraging smile.

Luckily, the second years managed to complete the task with minimal injuries, Pomona mentally noted how much more confident they all looked towards the end of the lesson, her face beaming of pride at the young witches and wizards, until she was distracted by a large, shadowy figure through the greenhouse glass, and Hagrid's big, bushy face appeared next to the door, a wide grin upon his face and a glint in his eye Pomona had come to associate with Hagrid having some sort of plan.

"Right boys and girls", Pomona clapped her hands together twice, sharply, "time to start packing up your things".

 _Now, what is he up to? He looks up to mischief!_ She wondered to herself, trying to keep her own wide smile at bay, at the very least until her students were out of the greenhouse.

The bell sounded and the greenhouse was filled with a shuffling of twelve year olds, as bags and coats were replaced and a steady stream of students made its way to the door. Pomona watched as Hagrid gave the students a cheery wave.

The gameskeeper trotted into the greenhouse and rushed to give Pomona's sides a squeeze, she batted his hands away, "Oh, stop it you!" she said, laughing.

"Yeh busy the night?" Hagrid asked

"Nope"

"Yeh are now, meet me at me hut abou' eight?"

Pomona nodded, her smile so large her cheeks looked fit to burst ,as with a wink Hagrid turned on his heel and sauntered out the door. With an excited sigh, Pomona started clearing up after the lesson, her Hufflepuff patience facing the large task of occupying itself for the next five hours.

 **Wednesday 15th November, 1989**

 **Hut of Rubeus Hagrid, 7.58pm**

"Righ' on time, as always!" Hagrid called cheerfully, his hand waving in greeting as he watched a his young bloodhound Fang seemingly attempt to knock Pomona to the ground in a mission to lick her to death.

"Got a big surprise for ye!"

"Can't wait Hagrid!" Pomona cried back, pushing Fang's insistent head back downwards, "get down you silly mutt-" she scorned playfully, "-you've seen me almost every day this week you sausage!"

"Righ' Fang, inside ye go, ye big galoot!" Hagrid thrust Fang back inside his hut and grabbed a steak from the side, throwing it to the big dog before shutting the door.

"He's not coming with us?" Pomona had grown rather fond of Fang's company of late.

"Nah, no' tonigh', ye'll see", Hagrid replied mysteriously, as he raised his arm, inviting her to take it. Pomona happily accepted and the two walked together, slowly, into a small clearing on the edge of the forest.

"What are we here for, Hagrid?" Pomona looked around, seeing nothing but the trees, the moonlight in the sky beyond creating an illuminated glow around the clearing.

"Jus' wait, any minute now, ah, there we go, ssshhhhh!" Hagrid's finger was against his mouth signaling the importance that they did indeed need to be quiet. Pomona, confusedly followed Hagrid's gaze with her own. And as a large, white creature stepped into the same clearing they currently occupied, Pomona could all but gasp as the unicorn stepped forward, almost playfully and walked around the two mesmerised figures, before retreating slowly back into the depths of the forest.

"Oh, oh Hagrid!" Pomona gasped, feeling choked with emotion.

"I thought ye might like to see her", Pomona looked up and saw Hagrid watching her, the sides of his sparkly eyes were crinkling as he smiled down upon the witch.

"I, err, I'm no good with words an' all but I, err.." Hagrid trailed off, awkwardly playing with his beard, his eyes watching the forest floor.

Pomona watched him, her throat still caught with emotion as she patted his arm, "tell me," she spoke softly.

"I, well, I love ye' 'mona. I jus' thought you should know tha."

Pomona's heart filled with a whole different type of emotion as she smiled up at the man she knew she loved.

And as she replied "I love you too", the two didn't see the unicorn had come back, just for a second to watch, earnestly, before shaking it's mane, snorting quietly and trotting happily, back the way it had come.

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	16. The Baby Shower (Number 15)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: The Baby Shower (Number 15)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Friendship/Romance**

 **Pairing: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson**

 **Trigger Warnings: Language, Smut, Mention of abuse, Infertility**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **The Baby Shower**

* * *

Pansy Parkinson stared at the cream coloured envelope in her hands. The invitation inside held beautiful script with a request to attend Hermione Malfoy's baby shower.

Over the years - _since the end of the war_ \- Pansy grew rather close to Draco's girlfriend, now wife. She knew all the little details about the shower - the colour scheme, the party favours, and just how many _fucking Gryffindors_ would be there.

Pansy _hated_ baby showers.

She hated uptight Gryffindors even more, and that's all Hermione had invited. What she wouldn't admit out loud was how much it hurt to be around babies, and those sodding Gryffindors would be absolutely ridiculous over this one.

She checked her appearance one last time before throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and calling out _Malfoy Manor_. The fire engulfed her, and she stepped out of the flames into an immaculate sitting room.

"Pans!" Hermione squealed and waddled over to her. Pansy immediately pulled her glowing friend into a hug.

"Hey, Mi. How are you feeling?" She affectionately rubbed Hermione's belly. "How's the little quidditch player doing?"

"The baby has been extremely active. I'm already over this day!" Hermione chuckled.

"Hey Pansy." Draco walked into the sitting room and pulled his wife into his chest. "Listen, Hermione and I wanted to talk to you before everyone else arrived." Draco looked at Pansy with a shy grin.

"We wanted to know if you'd be this little one's godmother?" Hermione beamed at her.

"Really? You think that's a good idea?" Pansy joked, but she couldn't hold back the huge grin that spread across her face. "I'd be honored!"

She quickly pulled Hermione into another embrace, kissing her cheek. She smiled brightly at Draco, but she could already feel the tears gathering behind her eyelids.

"Thank you. I really can't wait for this baby to make his - or _her_ \- appearance. I'm going to spoil them rotten!" She grinned. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab a smoke before all the _Gryffindorks_ get here." She winked at Draco before making her way towards the room's exit.

"I can't believe that you got her hooked on that filthy habit, Draco. It's absolutely disgusting!" Hermione crinkled her nose in distaste.

"More like _I_ got _him_ onto it!" Pansy laughed, walking out of the room.

She didn't start rushing towards the library until she was completely out of sight from Draco and Hermione. The tears were spilling down her face by the time she pushed through the huge balcony door.

She was so excited for them - she really was, but it _still hurt_. Every time babies were brought into the conversation it hurt. It was getting harder and harder to avoid the topic of children.

It seemed like everyone she knew was married and popping out heirs. Daphne and Blaise just announced that they were pregnant, and Astoria and Neville announced that they were pregnant with baby number _two_ just last month.

 _Fucking rabbits,_ she thought bitterly.

Pansy took a deep breath and pulled her pack of cigarettes from a pocket in her dress. As she balanced one between her lips, she realized she had set her purse down in the living room and her wand was inside. Now she had no way to light her cigarette.

 _Just wonderful,_ she groaned. Her anxiety was already eating at her, and she really didn't want to go back in until she had a chance to compose herself.

"Hey," someone spoke tentatively. "I'm supposed to let you know that the shower is going to start soon - everyone arrived a bit earlier than anticipated." The voice startled her, and she turned around to see Harry _bloody_ Potter standing just outside of the balcony door.

 _Fantastic_ , she thought, rolling her eyes. _Just who I wanted to see._

She quickly wiped at her face, hiding any evidence she'd been crying and plastered a sneer on her face, hoping it rivaled Draco's favourite facial expression.

"Are you, uh, okay?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yes. I'm fine, _thank you_ ," she spat out. She didn't want to voice any of her concerns to _him_.

"Upset that you're too young to be a godmother?" He laughed.

She just stared at him. _Too young_? She was too young to have this problem! To her horror, she started to sob.

Harry rushed forward and before she could protest, pulled her into his arms. He smelled like grass, parchment paper and leather. It was intoxicating. She felt her face warm and prayed he didn't hear her inhale.

"Oh gods. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say anything rude," he spoke into her hair.

She pulled back and looked right into his emerald green eyes; she was shocked at the look of genuine concern there.

"No, no. It wasn't rude. I'm sorry that I'm such a mess," she mumbled quickly, pulling herself out of his grasp. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come out here, honestly."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently. "Also, need a light?" He pointed to the cigarette still resting in her hand.

She nodded her head and put the cigarette back to her lips. He used his wand to light the end, and she took a long drag before opening the pack for him. He grabbed one, nodding in thanks, and they sat there for a moment, both enjoying the nicotine coursing through their veins.

"I can't have a baby of my own. Took too many cruciatus curses in our 7th year, and my father was an abusive prick," she spoke reluctantly. "Baby showers kill me. _I fucking love babies_ , but being around all these happy pregnant women is draining." She inhaled her cigarette and stared back at Potter.

"I'm really sorry. I can't even imagine. That's definitely gotta be rough." He gave her a weak smile, and she was surprised to find herself smiling back at him.

"It is what it is," she sighed. "I love those two idiots in there. I'd sit through every bloody baby shower in the world for them." She laughed. "Say, how did you know that I'm going to be a godmother?"

"Oh, they told me after they asked me to be the _godfather_."

She grinned at him, hardly shocked. She knew that he was a great godfather - Teddy Lupin was a good indication of that.

"Right, of course. Good choice." She stood, stubbing out the remainder of her fag and turning on her heel to go back inside. The party _had_ started, meaning they were late, and Hermione's pregnancy hormones were fierce.

Harry reached out to catch her hand before she could get the door open. "We could do something!"

"Do something?..." She replied, raising a brow at the awkward statement.

"Right. With the baby, I mean. We could do something with the baby. Like dinner!"

She stared at the wizard fumbling over his words. "Dinner… with the baby? The baby that isn't here yet."

Harry flushed, and Pansy smirked at the boy who lived _\- the boy who couldn't even properly ask a woman on a date_ was more like it.

"What I mean to say is _we_ could have dinner. You and I."

Pansy assessed the situation quickly, unsure how to respond. This was _Harry Potter,_ bleeding heart, Gryffindor Golden boy.

 _Man_ , she amended as she eyed his frame. He'd certainly grown into himself over the years. He was lean, _lithe -_ his body showing off those years of playing seeker for the Quidditch team.

But… "I tried to hand you over to the _Dark Lord."_ she sputtered, her usual poise forgotten momentarily as she stared at the man who'd _clearly_ been dropped on his head at one time or another.

 _Or Avada Kedavra'd once or twice,_ she thought with dark humor only a Slytherin could appreciate.

"Pansy, it's been five years. I know where you stood. Hell, I was just as scared as you were. Granted, I can't imagine sacrificing someone as pretty as you..." He winked. "I forgave you a long time ago. That year with the Carrow _psychos_ couldn't have been easy on you. Clearly, it wasn't."

She stared at him with her jaw slack. _Had this really just happened_? Was she in the Twilight zone? _Harry Potter forgave her._ Forgave her for trying to sacrifice him, AND he complimented her at the same time _. That cheeky sod._

"Thank you. That means a lot to me. That year was utter shite. I didn't honestly think I'd make it out alive." She shuddered thinking about it. "Dinner sounds nice. _Please_ tell me you've got somewhere decent in mind?"

"Well, obviously. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't. Only the best for the Slytherin Princess."

"Ha ha," she mocked, playing along. "Let's get inside before Hermione murders one of us."

Evidently, Hermione was _all too_ pleased to see the pair getting along, if her sheepish grin was any indication.

Pansy spent the next three hours in misery as she was forced to play ridiculous games, plaster a smile on her face while Hermione opened gifts, and pretend that she _didn't_ notice that Harry had been eyeing her the entire time.

 **xxx**

Pansy sighed, staring at the growing pile of dresses that had overwhelmed her bed. She had absolutely no clue what to wear. Should she go sultry? Casual? She'd never felt this insecure about a date in her life, and that was saying something for her.

Being asked on a date by _Harry Potter_ was not something Pansy had been prepared for. If someone had told her years ago she'd be standing in her room, choosing the perfect outfit for dinner with the _Golden Boy_ , she'd laugh in their face.

To top it off, he'd been studying her and sending shy smiles her direction all throughout the baby shower. Why would he ask _her_ of all people? If it weren't for the Malfoy heir, they wouldn't even be speaking. Surely the savior of a Wizarding Britain had a handful of prospects falling at his feet.

Pansy groaned, flopping onto the bed and sinking into the mountain of discarded dresses. She desperately wanted to floo Mi and get her opinion on what to wear, but she wasn't ready to mention the date. What if the entire evening blew up in her face? She'd be humiliated!

"Mopsy!" she called out. With a _Pop!_ her elf appeared in front of her.

"What is young miss needing?" the little elf asked.

"I can't settle on a dress. I have a, _uh_ , date tonight, and I really need your opinion." Pansy gave Mopsy a shy smile, but she felt ridiculous.

"Oh! Mopsy would _love_ to help her young miss!" The elf responded brightly and clapped her hands. "Up! Mopsy will look at your dresses."

Pansy did as she was told, crawling reluctantly from her bed and plopping down onto her vanity chair.

"Young miss has made a right mess! Mopsy will clean it up!" With a snap of her fingers, Pansy's dresses righted themselves back into her closet.

She watched Mopsy disappear into her rows of material, and she could hear the elf making _tsks_ and _hmms_ as she scanned the racks of clothing. Finally, a dress floated out the door with Mopsy following right behind.

"This be the perfect dress for my Missy Pansy. She will be so pretty in it!" Mopsy said with delight.

The dress in question floated gently onto Pansy's bed, and she had to admit that Mopsy had _pretty good_ taste in clothing, despite her own choices in fashion.

The tiny elf moved back into the closet, reemerging with a pair of strappy heels and placing them on the floor next to the bed.

"Yous will wear those with it. Now get dressed! Mopsy will help you with your hair when you're ready." With that, Mopsy popped out of the room.

Pansy stood and walked over to the bed where her dress innocently waited. She ran her fingers over the intricate green lace before slipping out of her robe and sliding the soft fabric up her body.

She moved to stand in front of her vanity, studying her reflection as she smoothed the delicate evening wear over her curves.

She knew she was beautiful, naturally. She was _Pansy Parkinson._ She'd never had trouble in the romance department, but for years after the war she'd kept to herself, out of the spotlight, away from prying eyes.

She knew her father was reason for her distrust. His abuse had left her scarred, _broken_ , and she had no idea how to get back what she'd lost. Her youth. Her _innocence._

Her thoughts moved to her last _dreadful_ year at Hogwarts, and memory of Amycus Carrow bombarded her mind. The image of his leering face left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Pansy let out a shaky breath, and as if on cue, Mopsy arrived back at her side. She could feel the tiny creature staring at her, but she held her chin high and tried to wipe the anguish from her face. It was no use, of course, because Mopsy _always knew._

"Sit, Missy," she ordered in her usually bossy demeanor, but Pansy could read the concern in her voice. Mopsy reached for her brush, running the soft bristles through her hair before taking the dark locks and twisting them carefully at the nape of her neck. With a snap of her nimble fingers, the style was locked in place.

"My Pansy, you were always beautiful, even when you were a baby," Mopsy said to her as she ran her small hand down her face. "I has been with young Miss's family for a _long_ time. Mopsy knows these things. Your beauty goes beyond the outside. You have beauty inside, too." She beamed at her.

Pansy couldn't hold back the tears that slipped from her eyes. Mopsy had always been there for her. Her own mother - _if you could even call her that_ \- was never around. Pansy was a prize to be given away to the highest bidder. She would make some nice Pureblood boy very happy one day.

After the war, when Pyrs had been arrested, Pansy was finally free from those archaic standards. She grabbed the few things that held any value to her and told Mopsy that they were moving out. They'd been in her townhouse ever since.

"Thank you, Mopsy. I don't know what I'd do without you." She pulled the small elf in for a hug. "I need to put my makeup on. Would you please get the door for me when my _hot date_ gets here?" Pansy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Mopsy stuck her tongue out at her in return.

"Of course Mopsy will! Don't turn your eyes into a raccoon. Young miss is a _proper_ young lady." With that, Mopsy popped out of the room.

Pansy chuckled, smiling to herself as she began her beauty routine.

 **xxx**

Thirty minutes of fussing later, Pansy was satisfied with her appearance. She knew it would be quicker to cast a glamour charm or two, but one thing she'd learned from being friends with a muggle born was that applying makeup by hand was _fun_.

She perched on the edge of bed, slipping into her heels and casting a cushioning charm on both for extra comfort. She pulled a small black clutch from her closet, tucking her lip gloss inside and slipping her wand into a hidden holster on her thigh before making her way towards the kitchen.

She pulled a wine glass out of the cupboard and began pouring herself a glass of Red when Mopsy appeared with a _Pop!_ Startled, she nearly splashed the glass of liquid down her dress. She growled at Mopsy, who was trying to pry the glass from her fingertips.

"Mister _Potter_ is here, young Miss. Yous been keeping secrets from Mopsy!" the elf accused, crossing her arms over her tiny frame and glaring at Pansy, who was chugging the wine as quickly as she could.

She shrugged innocently at her elf and tried to scoot out of the kitchen before she could say anything more, but Mopsy was hot on her heels, swatting her behind like she did when Pansy acted out as a little girl.

This is what found Harry Potter staring incredulously at the scene ahead of him, biting his knuckles in an attempt to stifle his laughter. Pansy squealed, stomping her foot and demanding the tiny elf in a large _,_ purple _tutu_ leave her be.

She flushed furiously, embarrassed that he'd seen their unruly behavior. She tugged on her dress, smooth the material and attempting to discreetly rub her sore arse in the process. She shot Mopsy another glare, though the elf looked all too pleased with her doings.

Harry cleared his throat, and she reluctantly looked up to meet his eyes. His dazzling smile almost made the situation seem - _wait!_ She stopped her thoughts, backtracking quickly. _Since when do I find Harry Potter dazzling?_

She shook her head, clearing her mind and moving forward to greet her date. He _did_ clean up well, she noted.

"Good evening, Potter." She smiled warmly at him, some of earlier nerves finally ebbing away.

"Harry," he murmured, moving forward to kiss her hand. "We're not in school anymore, _Pansy_."

She watched his lips hover over her skin, her mind swirling as she wondered where he learned to be so suave. "Harry," she nodded, a faint smile dancing across her lips.

"Well… shall we?" He motioned for the door, taking her gingerly by the elbow to direct her. She glanced back over her shoulder to where Mopsy stood, shooing her away merrily and mumbling what sounded like " _such a good boy!"._

"Do you mind if we walk?" Harry asked her as they moved down the steps of her townhouse. "You live fairly close to the restaurant."

"Yeah, that would be great." She smiled, and they began their walk towards Diagon Alley.

"So, your elf likes tutus?" Harry chuckled. "How did that fashion choice come about?"

"Oh, that's a fun story, actually! After we moved out of the Parkinson Manor, I took Mopsy shopping. Pyrs, my father, had her wear this awful tea rag - _she always deserved better_. Mopsy has always been there for me, you know? It was important to me that she got something nicer to wear." Pansy waved her hand, dismissing the words.

"So anyway, we went into this little shop, and the first thing that caught her eye were the _little girl's_ tutus! She insisted on that purple one you saw her wearing. Honestly, she has several others, but I think that one is her favourite because it was her first piece of actual clothing." Pansy couldn't hold back the huge grin that spread across her cheeks as she remembered the shopping trip.

"That's fantastic! I'll be honest, I really wasn't expecting to see that when she opened the door. Hermione must be very pleased." He spoke with genuine enthusiasm, mirroring her grin.

"Don't even get me started on that woman! She'll go on and on about S.P.E.W if you give her a chance. How you put up with that _nonsense_ back in school is admirable."

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and eyeing her as he spoke. "She's easy to get on with - a _great_ friend, as I'm sure you know by now. Those are hard to come by, and when you find one, you hang on tight - pesky quirks and all."

They'd nearly reached the edge of Diagon Alley, and she thanked Salazar because Mopsy's choice of heels weren't exactly designed for walking any distance on old cobble roads, despite the charms she'd placed.

Much to her pleasure, Harry moved in closer, offering his arm to her as they stepped onto the busy street. She accepted, slipping her hand around the smooth fabric of his cloak. She licked her lips nervously, glancing around for any sight of a photographer.

She was with _Harry Potter_ , afterall. He may be just plain old Harry to their peers, but the reporters still followed him around like a lost puppy begging for a bone. She wouldn't be surprised to see their "date" plastered in the Prophet by Monday morning.

They'd stopped in front a brick building - an Italian restaurant frequented by many of upperclass Wizarding Britain. It had been constructed a few years after the War ended, and by the look on the Hostess's face as she greeted them, she wouldn't be all that shocked to find out Harry had offered a pretty galleon to help build it. Italian, _she'd learn_ , was his absolute favorite.

A young waitress promptly showed them to their table, tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant. Moments later, the pair were nibbling on fresh breadsticks, and Pansy blushed in embarrassment at the thought of Harry catching her with garlic breath.

She cursed herself inwardly for even thinking he'd be in any position close enough to notice.

 _I wouldn't so much mind though…_

She prayed the wine got to their table soon. Merlin knows she needed a glass - or _three_ \- to get through this evening.

Answering her silent plea, their waitress swept by, depositing a bottle of Elf Wine into a small bucket of ice at the center or their table. They'd placed their orders with the young witch - _both chose pasta_ , she noted - and watched as Harry reached forward, pulling her glass from it's resting place before pouring the liquid with careful concentration.

He handed it back to her, and she smiled sweetly as his fingers brushed against hers. She sniffed the liquid, swirling it gently and taking a small sip. The wine went down smoothly, and she savoured the rich flavour and silky feel on her tongue.

"What is this?" she questioned, slightly irked that she wasn't able to place it.

Harry raised a brow, and his smirk was _so_ Slytherin that she couldn't help but shake her head at him. "Oh, you don't know? It's called _Absentia_. Elf made, of course."

"Impressive," she admitted, raising her glass to him and taking another delicious gulp.

"I'm good at a lot of things," he spoke in a low murmur.

Pansy coughed, choking on her wine and tried to hide her face behind her napkin. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck as her mind wandered yet again.

"So… um, Hogwarts! How's Hogwarts, then?" she inquired awkwardly.

 _Hold it together, Pansy!_

A broad smile broke across his face, and she knew she'd found safer waters. "Honestly, I really love it. I've been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for nearly four years now. Neville - he took over Herbology for Professor Sprout, you see - kept joking that no one could hold the position for DADA, and that's when I realized it's something I could see myself doing."

Pansy hung on to each word, fascinated with the way his face seemed to light up at the topic.

"I ended up sending an owl to Headmistress McGonagall, and she was thrilled with my interest. I was in the Auror Department after the war, you know - Ron and I. It seemed like what I was meant to do, but I realized how sick I was of chasing after dark wizards. I thought maybe I could teach others about it instead." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance but the happy gleam was still shining in his eyes.

"That's really wonderful, Harry. The students could use some good mentors after what we had deal with."

He smiled sympathetically. "I really think I've been able to bring back a sense of unity in the school."

She couldn't help but feel truly _impressed_. The war may be over and done with, but house prejudice seemed long engrained into the minds of students year after year. For Harry to break down that wall and create a united front, well… that was a real achievement .

Their plates had come and gone, and after a few more glasses of the fantastic Red, Harry questioned her on her latest doings.

"What about you then? What has Pansy Parkinson been doing to fill her time?"

Pansy bit her lip, delighted to talk about her accomplishments. If there was one thing she was proud to discuss, it was her work.

"I work for Witch Weekly. It's fun, and I truly feel in my element, but between you and me, I've got greater plans for myself." She thanked him as he poured her yet another glass.

"What I really want to do is design. Clothing, of course… that's what brought me to Witch Weekly." She sipped her drink, images of her sketchwork dancing across her mind.

"A pretty witch like yourself, I'm not surprised. Can you sew, then?" Harry inquired.

"Can I sew?" She snorted delicately, feeling the full effects of the alcohol she'd indulged in. "Of course I can! Mopsy taught me when I was young. I'm a natural, obviously."

Harry laughed along with her, and she clapped her hands together suddenly, excited as an idea suddenly struck. "I've got sketches, you know. Tons of them! I could show you… if you're interested." She smiled shyly.

"Are you asking me to go home with you?" He winked, and she realized the implication of her words.

"I, well, I mean…" she stuttered, unsure how to answer. She took a deep breath, calming her rattled nerves and smiled widely. "Yes, Harry Potter. I think I am."

He returned the gesture with a grin of his own, and after calling over the waitress to settle their bill, he rose from his seat to help her from her own.

"How about I show you my place instead?"

"I think that sounds perfect," she responded gently, a smile still lingering on her lips as she pondered what the night would bring.

They headed out of the building hand in hand, and just as they'd stepped through the door, a bright flash caught them both off guard. Pansy blinked rapidly, colors flashing before her eyes momentarily before her sight focused, and she spotted the reporter holding a large camera.

"Harry Potter!" He called out, trying to get their attention. "Who's your lovely date? Is that Miss Parkinson?"

Harry grunted, pulling her along quickly as she teetered slightly on too high heels. She glanced back over her shoulder, face flushed from the wine and excitement, and offered the photographer a tiny wave. His camera flashed again, and she imagined the shock on Hermione's face when she caught glimpse of that photograph in the paper.

As soon as they rounded a corner, away from the eyes of the paparazzi, he pulled his wand, and with destination in mind, they disappeared into the pull of darkness.

 **xxx**

The pair materialized on the front steps of large building. "Twelve", the sign read, and she followed Harry inside the large wooden door.

He swept his arms out in flourish. "Grimmauld Place - _home sweet home_. Or as close to that as I can get."

Pansy looked around the main entry hall, taking in the crisp white of the walls and the various decorations. "It's lovely," she spoke warmly.

And it was. Harry, with Hermione's help, completely renovated the townhouse a few years back. Where dim walls and old artifacts once darkened the place, brightly colored paints in different shades of white and maroon graced the home with light. They'd replaced all the old furniture with modern pieces and even picked up some Muggle artwork for the walls.

The atmosphere had changed drastically since the end of war, leaving Grimmauld Place as simply Harry's home and _not_ the Order's headquarters.

"Are you a fan of Meade?" He asked her as they moved through the sitting room.

"I am, actually. Draco introduced it to me a few years back." She smiled at him.

"Funny story, he did the same for me! I was surprised that he even knew about Muggle beer, let alone like it."

"Draco is full of surprises." She laughed.

The pointy blonde in question would probably raise his eyebrows at where Pansy was currently standing, but she was full of surprises too, as it seemed. _All a great conversation for the morning_ , she thought, her lips tugging upwards mischievously. She followed Harry through a door at the far side of the room and into the kitchen.

"That, he is. I don't think I _ever_ expected him and Hermione to end up together, and hopelessly in love at that! They about killed one another our 8th year. Minnie wasn't sure they'd make it." He chuckled at the memory.

"Minnie? You call McGonagall _Minnie?"_ Pansy couldn't help the laughter that erupted from her mouth.

 _It's got to be the wine. Potter's never been so funny!_

Harry handed her a glass of beer, smirking at her outburst and motioned for her to follow him back into the sitting room. He plopped down onto the couch and patted it, indicating he wanted her to join him. She stood frozen for a moment before carefully sinking into the cushion next to him. She was so close that her leg pressed up against his thigh, and she inhaled quietly at the warmth.

"I had a nice time tonight, Pansy. I'd like to do it again." He smiled that brilliant smile at her.

"I did, too. Who knew that I could have fun with a Gryffindor?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste, causing Harry to give her an incredulous look. She held the face for a moment before tossing him a wink, and he laughed at her teasing.

"Says the snake right before she strikes."

She looked at him, drinking in his words, and his bright green eyes pulled her in. She felt herself shift as if on her own accord and before she realized what was happening, he had leaned forward and softly pressed his mouth to her's. The sudden contact seared straight to her core, and he pulled back all too soon. She hadn't drank enough to miss the passion burning in his emerald eyes.

"I think you mistake me. _You_ struck first." She murmured, touching her fingertips to her burning lips. Harry chuckled a deep throaty laugh, smooth as silk to her ears.

Pansy knew that she couldn't wait for him again, so she set her mug down onto a table in front of them before closing the few inches left between them and kissed him once more. She felt him prod her lips, licking her softly while silently begging to push forward into her mouth. She immediately granted him access, and the kiss consumed her. Harry brought his hand up and pulled her closer against him.

The feel of their bodies pressed so close stroked the fire simmering deep within her, so she swung her leg over his hip to straddle his lap and further the delicious contact. She placed a hand against his chest to brace herself, fingers itching to move the fabric out of way. She let her other hand wander to his hair, running it through his messy locks.

Her breath hitched as his mouth left hers, moving to her neck and sucking lightly at the hollow of her throat. Her grip on his hair tightened, and she tugged slightly when a groan left his lips. She pulled her wand from it's holster on her thigh, running it down his chest lightly and murmuring an incantation to undo the buttons. Tossing the delicate wood off to the side, she nearly purred as her fingers traced the taught muscles along his chest.

 _Harry Potter is definitely fit,_ she smiled to herself, appreciating her earlier observation.

"Are you sure?" He asked her, his fingers rubbing circles on the small of her back.

"Yes, I'm sure." She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

"Good," he spoke, words muffled against her lips, "because we're not staying on this couch." He lifted her up, easily shifting her weight with his arms around her small frame. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, and he moved one hand lower to grip her arse. She buried her face into his neck, peppering kisses along his jawbone as he moved them both from the room.

Harry set her down just outside the door of the drawing room, heels clicking soundly as they touched the old wooden floorboards. He started to pull her up the tall stairway, but they'd barely made it halfway when he had her pinned against the wall, arms held over her head as their tongues battled for dominance.

They broke apart long enough to stumble through the doorway closest to the steps, and he had her tipped back onto the bed in record time. She barely had a chance to look around before he was on top of her, lips dancing again.

"This dress needs to come off," He growled against her lips. Pansy couldn't agree more, so she put her hands onto his chest to push him up and away from her. She carefully moved off the bed, turning away from him and glancing over her shoulder through hooded lids.

"Unzip me?" She asked softly.

Harry gripped her waist gently, pulling her back between his legs and slowly started unzipping the garment, revealing smooth, tan skin inch by inch. When he finally reached the end at the base of her back, she shrugged the sleeves off of her shoulders and let it pool on the ground at her feet. His hands were immediately on her, running up and down her sides, and the feeling sent tingles up her spine.

He kissed his way down her curves, settling his hands on her hips before biting her arse. The sharp contrast pulled a moan from her lips, and she could feel the familiar heat settling in her stomach.

She shivered as he hooked his fingers into the sides of her knickers and slowly pulled them down her legs. She quickly slipped her feet out of them, kicking her heels off before turning back around to push him down onto the bed. His painfully slow teasing was going to come to an end, and she planned to have some fun of her own.

"I think _you're_ wearing too much. How about you lose the trousers?" She raised a brow, eyeing his crotch as if to challenge him.

Harry chuckled, and she watched his fingers methodically as they _ever so slowly_ undid the button and zipper. He pulled both his pants and boxers down his legs, tossing the offending articles onto the floor with her own.

Pansy crawled onto the bed, eyes raking up his lean figure and moved to straddle him. She felt his hard length press against her core but kept her breathing steady, even as she was ready to burst. She reached back to unhook the clasp of her bra and let the scrap of lace fall away. Harry inched his calloused hands up her stomach and onto her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh. She tilted her hips forward, repositioning herself and sank down onto him.

They both cried out at the needed contact, and Pansy braced both hands against his shoulders as she rocked her hips in earnest.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry growled out as he pushed his hips up to meet hers, falling into rhythm. She yelped in surprise as he flipped her onto her back and dissolved into a fit of whimpers when he hiked both legs onto his shoulders.

Pansy dug her nails into his skin _just enough_ to hurt, raking across his back and leaving her mark. He was anything but gentle, hands gripping her thighs and surely bruising the creamy skin as his pounded into her warmth.

The delicious push and pull had her screaming, crying out _please, right there, more, don't stop._

Harry reached his hand down and started rubbing circles around her clit. She could feel the fire building inside of her as he thrusted harder. Her legs started trembling and she knew she was close.

" _Fuck… oh, fuck. Let go - I can feel that you're close. Let go, Pansy_ ," He purred into her ear.

With those words, she uncoiled, his name tearing from her lips. Her nails dug deeper into his back, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. Harry grabbed her legs, pushing them together and repositioning them to the side of his hip. He pushed in deeper, and the new angle felt amazing.

" _Don'tStopPleaseDon't_ ," She spoke incoherently, words running together as the pressure built up once again. He picked up speed and leaned down to bite into her neck.

" _Right there - Fuck. Right there!_ " She cried.

" _Come with me_ ," she spoke breathlessly, reaching down to rub at the small bundle of nerves, pulling herself closer to the edge. The second orgasm ripped through her body, and she felt Harry shake slightly as he came.

He rolled off of her and pulled her into his side. Pansy laid her head down onto his chest and listened to his heart pounding, smiling because hers was beating just a fast to match.

"That was _phenomenal_ ," He spoke into her hair as he kissed her head.

"Didn't think I'd ever agree with a Gryffindor, but it was pretty great."

Harry chuckled, tucking her closer against him.

"Give me a bit, and I'll change your mind on that _great_ comment."

She laughed as she settled into Harry's chest, taking comfort in the protective feel of his arms wrapped around her.

Pansy Parkinson still hated baby showers, but she was finding out that she didn't hate Gryffindors quite as much as she thought she did.

 _Well, at least not this one._

* * *

 **Reviews: Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	17. Harry Bloody Potter and (Number 16)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Harry Bloody Potter And The Awkward Tea Party (Number 16)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Femslash/Romance/Humour**

 **Pairing: Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood**

 **Trigger Warnings: Sexytimes**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Harry Bloody Potter And The Awkward Tea Party**

* * *

As sunrise barged its way uninvited into Hermione's bedroom, shining in her eyes and waking her to what would no doubt be a pounding hangover, she was momentarily surprised to find a head of wavy blonde hair nestled on the pillow next to her. She pushed herself up on her elbows and let her eyes trail down the pale, slender arm that was casually flung over her stomach until they rested on the bracelet made of seashells threaded onto a shoelace that sat on her bedmate's elegant wrist.

She gasped as the taste of strawberry wine and sweat-slicked skin came flooding back to her unbidden, the ghosts of those slender fingers tracing her curves for a moment and the memory of a kiss on her lips. Woken by the noise, Luna Lovegood opened her eyes and smiled.

"Good morning." she whispered and Hermione was awed by the sleepy, contented look in her eyes. She couldn't believe that this ethereal girl was here in her bed, that they'd spent the night together. She had always thought that she may as well fall in love with the moon as fancy Luna Lovegood and yet here they were. She was almost afraid to speak, to disturb this moment and find it abruptly over.

"Hey," she whispered and Luna grinned.

"How's your head?" she asked and Hermione sighed, worried that everything that had happened between them was about to be swept away under the carpet, a drunken mistake.

"Not wonderful," she said, mouth dry from more than dehydration. "How are you?"

Luna leant in close suddenly to capture her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, tongues meeting in a brief flirtation before she pulled away to rest her forehead against Hermione's.

"I," she said, "Am _so_ wonderful." and with that she kissed her again, tasting and savouring. Her hand trailed over Hermione's waist and she nipped her bottom lip before moving on to kiss her chin, her jaw, her neck. Hermione gasped as Luna pushed herself up to lean over her, one arm supporting herself as another crept up to play with her breast, before teasing and twisting the nipple. Her hands trailed through Luna's hair and down her back as Luna kissed her way down her collarbone before taking her nipple into her mouth, the hand that had been on her breast taking their time gliding down over her hip and buttocks, tracing the outside of her thighs before her fingertips made their agonising way up the inside of her leg. Hermione was arching her hips, almost begging to finally be touched down in the wet warm centre of her and she groaned as Luna's fingers grazed her clit before disappearing inside of her.

She was so bloody close, gasping and writhing under Luna's ministrations, kissing her with reckless hunger, grinding herself down into her hand as the girl caressed her with -god she didn't even _know_ how many fingers any more- while her thumb toyed with her clit. Luna was panting and moaning too, sex-glazed eyes that were once so far away now focused on her, everything that had been so out of reach so touchable now. She was so. Fucking. _Close_.

Then, she heard the distinct sound of Harry Potter clearing his throat.

Hermione sat bolt upright in complete horror, Luna sliding her fingers out of her and sitting up with much more reluctance. The other girl merely smiled at the two boys, raising a hand to them in a casual wave. Ron and Harry stood on the hearth, both bright pink. Harry at least had the decency to avert his eyes, but the expression of mingled shock, embarrassment, and gratitude to whatever divine providence had brought him there at that very moment that was evident on her ex-boyfriend's face was just too much.

"Godric bloody Gryffindor Ronald, Owl first, _then_ floo!" Hermione cried, leaping out of bed to fling her dressing gown on, cursing herself for ever renting a house with a fireplace in the bedroom of all places. It was a silly muggleborn oversight, and one she would be sure to remedy. She had never been so _embarrassed_.

Now covered in the big fluffy garment, she shooed Harry and Ron out and downstairs into the kitchen so Luna could dress. Ron seemed to be having trouble finding words, but Harry simply hid a small smile behind the glass of water she got him as she dropped two alka seltzer into her own and tried to muster some semblance of calm back into her mind and body.

"Well, that was a surprise." Harry said. Ron probably thought he was being subtle mouthing the word ' _Surprise?!_ ' at him when he thought Hermione wasn't looking. She blushed.

"It's um, sort of a surprise to me too actually." she said. "Not the… the woman part, I mean, I know we haven't really talked about it but since Ron and I broke up I've… But, Luna- This is very new, ok? As in we went out with Ginny, and there was a _lot_ of wine, and then this morning she was just _there_. So don't-" _don't be_ Ron _about it_ she thought fervently. "I really like her."

"Oh good, I like you too." Luna chimed, appearing in the doorway. She beamed at Hermione and made her way over to the kettle to begin making a cup of tea, completely unconcerned at being as naked as the day she was born.

"Can I get you a cuppa, Harry? Ron?"

"Er, yes please. Ron will have one too."

Harry took it pretty much in stride, besides a few appreciative looks as she reached over for the sugar bowl. Hermione couldn't blame him, the sight of those perfect breasts as she leaned held her own gaze too, thinking on how they had felt in her hands; supple and perfectly sized, and the hardened little nub of her nipple under her thumb, the sigh she had let out… God _damn_ Harry Potter and his absolutely terrible timing. Never mind making him tea, she wanted to throw the bloody saucer at him!

Ron was having a harder time than Harry adjusting to Luna's completely unabashed presence. When the fey girl smiled at him and asked if he wanted one lump or two he could only let out a little whimper, face the colour of a pygmy puff. He managed a 'thanks' as he was handed his mug though, and finally managed to choke out a few words.

"You could er… get dressed. If you wanted." he implored weakly, but Luna only smiled at him, eyes wide and innocent, as she joined Harry at the kitchen table.

"But we're not the ones who interrupted, Ronald." she said dreamily, and Hermione knew her well enough now to recognise the edge of absolute mischief that crept into her smile even though her tone remained completely serious. "Maybe you two should get undressed."

The two men choked on their tea and Hermione nearly spilt her alka seltzer chuckling at their expressions. Luna, however, had just caught sight of the clock and she stood abruptly.

"Bugger," she said, and the three of them blinked to hear her swear so abruptly. She crossed over to Hermione and stroked a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry Her, I've got to get to work, but we'll pick up where we left off, okay?" she leaned in, pressing Hermione up against the counter to give her the snogging of her life, before waving to Ron and Harry and leaving the room, leaving Hermione dazed and breathless as she stared after her.

Without the distraction of Luna's body, Ron finally seemed to be able to process the last ten minutes and stopped his staring. Hermione braced herself for the inevitable shitstorm of questions that were bound to come now they were alone. About her sexuality, about last night, maybe even another bloody argument about their failed relationship. She loved Ron, truly, but he could be an absolute idiot and she was sure this was going to be one of those times.

"Luna Lovegood. She shagged Luna fucking Lovegood." he said to Harry, and they exchanged a look of frank appreciation. "Well _done_." he said, raising his mug to her in toast.

Well, butter her bum and call her a biscuit.

* * *

 **Reviews: Gentle Criticism Please**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	18. Paperwork, Priorities, and (Number 17)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: Paperwork, Priorities, and Pleasure (Number 17)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M, Smut**

 **Genre:Romance/Humour**

 **Pairing:** **Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Fancasts: Narcissa - Diane Kruger, Lucius - Jason Isaacs**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Paperwork, Priorities, and Pleasure**

* * *

Lucius didn't look up at the sound of the knock on the door of his office at the Ministry. He was scheduled to be trapped sorting through proposals from Fudge for much longer than he would've liked, today, and he wasn't thrilled by the prospect of dealing with any of the man's lackeys. Lucius certainly had no obligation to work, and the more he dealt with Fudge's ineptitude, the more he regretted allowing his political ambitions to drag him into a grudging alliance with the man. He would've much preferred to be at home, and were he not in for a major victory if he managed to persuade Fudge to pass a particular bill he'd been championing…

"Come in," he called, shifting the document at the top of the stack to rest beside it as he moved on to peruse the next.

He heard the turning of the doorknob and the scratching of his quill across the parchment with his signature, and then he heard her voice.

"Are you terribly busy, Mr. Malfoy? I can come back another time…"

He looked up immediately, smiling as he took in the sight of her standing in the doorway. If there was one thing Lucius had learned about Narcissa over their years together, it was that she only grew more difficult to resist. He recalled how pure and innocent she'd been when he'd first begun stealing glances at her across the Great Hall or whatever ballroom they'd been crammed into along with too many faces he'd never really cared to see. He recalled how tentative those first kisses had been, how quickly she'd eased into them and how much passion lay just beneath the surface of her carefully constructed poise, and how he'd been determined to feel her lips—and her body—against his for as long as he was breathing.

"Well, this is a beautiful surprise," he said. He slowly lowered his quill to rest on the desk.

Narcissa closed the door behind her and locked it, and Lucius took his time allowing his gaze to return to her face. He surveyed the curves with which he'd become deliciously familiar—his eyes lingered on her hips and on her breasts, which were hugged just tightly enough by her powder-blue dress to tell him that it was intentional. She'd always been meticulous about her clothing choices, and he was certain he liked where this was going.

A mischievous smile crept onto her lips.

"I knew you were stuck here," she said, starting toward him slowly, "and I thought I might come by and try to help you pass the time."

"That's very thoughtful of you." Lucius smirked. "How do you propose to do so?"

Narcissa made her way around the desk and slipped off her shoes before climbing carefully onto Lucius's lap. He eyed her, not bothering to hide the fact that the neckline of her dress drew his focus downward. He knew she was waiting for a reaction, and even if he attempted to be more discreet, he knew it would be a losing battle. As he rested his hands on her hips while she rested one hand against his chest and trailed the fingers of the other through his hair, Lucius was certain his wife could feel the tightening of his trousers.

"I was thinking," she began, her blue eyes fixed meaningfully on his.

"Yes?" he purred. He squeezed her thigh and reached out for his wand with the other hand to flick it toward the door and silence the room, and then he rested his hand at the small of her back.

Narcissa leaned in to kiss slowly along his cheek and jawline to his ear and give it a light nip. "I know I should wait until you're finished for the day, but I couldn't help it," she whispered, her warm breath in Lucius's ear sending a shudder through him. "I want you."

Lucius growled low in his throat, shifting the hand at her back lower to give her rear a squeeze, which earned him a soft moan.

"I love it when you're feeling like this," he muttered, his lips brushing over her throat.

"What, when I've grown tired of sitting at home and acknowledge that I'm desperate for you?" Narcissa ground her hips against his. Lucius groaned, rocking upward against her, his mind clouded by thoughts of how good she felt and how sexy it was that she'd paid him a visit just to make love. He was straining severely against his trousers.

"Yes," he breathed. "You're intoxicating."

"You think so?" She kissed along his jaw slowly as her hands rubbed his shoulders.

Lucius closed his eyes, savoring the touch of her lips and her hands. "You know I do."

Narcissa nibbled at his neck and rubbed her hips against his once more. "Is this all right, darling? Do you want to?"

Lucius groaned, squeezing her rear with one hand while his other ran up her side to rest on her breast through her dress. "I want you."

Narcissa lifted her face to his and kissed him slowly, deeply. Lucius met her kiss with hunger as he began to rub and squeeze her breast.

Narcissa moaned against his lips, pressing her chest forward against his hand. Encouraged by her reaction, Lucius continued his squeezes and caresses. He couldn't count the number of times he'd fantasized about her showing up at his office like this.

 _I'd better not be dreaming,_ he thought.

He'd grown incredibly hard, now, and his trousers were entirely too restricting. He grudgingly removed his hand from her backside to reach down and undo the button restraining him. Narcissa let out a questioning noise into his mouth when his hand shifted, but when it brushed against her as he unfastened his trousers, he felt her shiver.

"Let me help you," she breathed. She gave his lower lip a tug and dragged her fingers slowly down his chest and stomach to settle eventually at his trousers. She leaned back just slightly to meet his eyes and bite her lip as she lowered his zipper and slipped her hand into his trousers to rub him.

Lucius groaned roughly, his eyes closing for a moment before forcing them open again to allow him to stare into hers, certain his lust was apparent in every facet of his expression.

"Cissy…"

"Yes, my love?" She rocked against him with a moan as she held his gaze. Her hands worked his trousers and pants over his hips, and he lifted himself up a bit to help her.

Narcissa closed her hand around his length and stroked him with her thumb. Lucius let out a growl. He pulled her closer, his lips latching onto her neck. He nipped at the spot above her clavicle he knew as her most sensitive and sucked on it as he thrust into her hand. Narcissa let out a moan as his motion lifted her in his lap.

"Lucius, yes…" Her voice was breathy and full of need, mingling with the moisture he felt through her knickers to drive him mad with desire.

She released her grip on him to work open the buttons of his shirt quickly, and he ripped it off and tossed it to the floor before sliding his hands beneath her skirt. He rubbed circles along her thighs as his hands moved upward and his lips crept along her neck. He grasped her undergarments and pulled them down, letting out a low growl as the wet material clung to her skin.

Narcissa shifted enough to rid herself of her knickers without moving too far from her spot on his lap, and when she'd finished, she tucked them beneath his thigh. She gripped his shoulders and shifted to sink down onto his length.

Lucius groaned loudly, arching his hips to push as deeply into her as he could. He was overwhelmed by the pleasure of the feeling and the notion that this was happening, and he planned to enjoy every second of it. He rested his hands on her hips and moved her in time with his thrusts. Narcissa's head rolled backward as she let out a low groan.

"Aah—eager, darling?" she teased, her hands squeezing his shoulders tightly.

He brought his lips to her ear. "Very," he said in the low tone he'd learned long ago was one of her weaknesses.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she moaned, her hips working hard against his and her breath growing shallower by the moment. Lucius found it increasingly difficult to stifle his noises as his wife's motions grew faster and the haze of pleasure filling his mind grew thicker with each moment he spent within her. He kept one hand at her hip and lifted the other to twist his fingers into her blond curls and pull her face down to his. He captured her lips hungrily as he rocked into her.

Flashes of their home and their bed and the chaise by the fire and every other place he wanted to have her passed through Lucius's mind, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stand many more long days at the Ministry. These people could have what little of his time he deigned necessary—his wife, on the other hand, would have as much of it as humanly possible.

Eventually, Narcissa pulled her lips back with a gasp for air, and Lucius kissed desperately along her neck until he had access to her mouth again. He tugged on her lips between moans and growls as he fought hard to keep her pace without losing his mind. When at last her body embraced him tightly and a low groan burst from her throat, he couldn't hold back any longer. He moaned her name against her lips as he spilled within her.

Breathing heavily, Narcissa pulled her mouth back from his to press a kiss to his jaw. "I love you."

Lucius rested his hand against her cheek, leaning his forehead against her own. "I love you so much," he managed through unsteady breaths.

She kissed his cheek. "I hope you don't have to stay too horribly late."

He laughed softly. "I won't, _ma fleur._ I want to be home in your arms."

Narcissa nuzzled his neck, shifting off of his length but continuing to sit in his lap. "I should probably go before I get you in trouble, shouldn't I?"

"Stay for a minute." Lucius ran his fingers through her hair and leaned close to kiss her softly as he shut his eyes. He felt her fingertips trace the contours of his chest, and he shivered under her touch. When he grudgingly pulled back, he pecked her lips once more. "I love you."

"I love you. And I'll come and bother you here more often, if you like." She let out a quiet, musical laugh in the soprano that captivated him so easily.

"Please do. I can't describe how much I would enjoy that," said Lucius, his hand sliding up and down her back. He regretted not undressing her completely, and he intended to do so when he returned home.

"I'll probably try to keep it a surprise, though, when I'm going to." Narcissa kissed his nose, and Lucius smiled. "The look in your eyes was worth it." She climbed off of his lap and slipped on her shoes. "I really should go, though, before someone comes to investigate."

Her cheeks flushed, and he chuckled. Narcissa wasn't the least bit shy about her desires when the two of them were alone, but Lucius adored how embarrassed she still became at the thought of anyone else knowing the things they did behind closed doors. Despite the experience they'd gained over their years of practice, she still held that air of innocence he'd always loved about her, and he took great pleasure in being the only one to see how passionate she could be.

Lucius pulled his trousers back into place and fastened them, and he reached for his wand to summon his shirt. He caught it in the air and had just managed to slip his arms through his sleeves when Narcissa's lips found his once more.

"I don't give a damn what anyone thinks," he mumbled between kisses. "Not where you're concerned. Hang them all." He grinned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You flatter me." She pecked his lips with a smile. "I adore it." She took a step backward. "I'll be waiting for you at home. Don't work too hard." Narcissa winked and started for the door. "I love you."

"I love you." Lucius smiled as he watched her hips swing with her steps and paused when he recalled what was sitting beside him. "Cissy, you've forgotten something." He reached for the knickers she'd tucked under his leg and held them up with a smirk he couldn't fight.

Narcissa turned toward him and glanced from the material to his face, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I didn't forget. I wanted you to keep them and think of me when things get tedious here." She blew him a kiss and unlocked the door, slipping outside and closing it behind her.

Lucius laughed under his breath and shook his head, his smirk still in place. "Tease," he muttered. He tucked the knickers into his pocket and buttoned his shirt again, finding the thought of returning to the paperwork on his desk laughably unappealing.

* * *

 **Reviews: I'm uneasy about writing smut, so I'd like to know whether it's something I can handle or if I need to improve.**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	19. A Single Act of Kindness (Number 18)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: A Single Act of Kindness (Number 18)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Drama**

 **Pairing: Septima Vector/Amycus Carrow**

 **Trigger Warnings: implied child abuse and neglect, use of Unforgivables**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **A Single Act of Kindness**

* * *

Tucked away in the corner of a rarely used corridor on the fourth floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry there had always been a disturbing statue of a frightening sixteenth century warlock. More than one First Year student had been reduced to tears after stumbling upon the statue unawares. Septima Vector found the hideous sculpture fascinating. In her second year as a student in the castle one of those horrid Gryffindor boys in her year, the short one with the tiny, watering eyes, took quite a fancy to the Ravenclaw. He would follow her around the castle making her ill at ease, but never actually speaking to her directly. One day she took a chance and pulled the ancient tapestry hanging on the wall behind the statue. A small, hidden alcove presented the perfect place to hide.

Septima continued using the secret alcove long after the horrid boy turned his sights to a poor Hufflepuff. There was a large window overlooking the Black Lake that provided plenty of natural light. A single bench nestled inside was the perfect place to sit and read without any disturbances. Sound was muffled by the thick tapestry though it was not usually necessary. The fourth floor, especially that particular corridor, was usually very quiet.

In the first week of her Seventh and final year as a student, Septima hid inside her alcove with her History of Magic book before dinner. Because classes had hardly even begun for the year, she did not want to seem too eager. Even as a Ravenclaw she still received snide comments about reading too much. She felt safe within her books, almost as if nothing in the outside world could harm her as she read. With her Housemates always teasing her for her studious nature, was it any wonder that she preferred to hide in her alcove?

She was startled to hear muffled voices on the other side of the tapestry. Only one hand would be required to count all of the instances she had been disturbed in that hidden corner of the castle over the years. All of the sounds were soft but it was easy enough to tell the discussion was serious. Septima tried to ignore the argument and return to her study of the International Warlock Conference of 1237. When the voices grew louder, she could no longer concentrate. She stood at the tapestry and very carefully pushed it open an inch to peek out.

The Carrow siblings were quarrelling just steps from her private sanctuary. Septima rolled her eyes. Alecto was in Sixth year and Amycus was in Fifth. They were something of a school joke. Most of the other students poked fun at them behind their backs. Their fellow Slytherins were not above teasing them to their faces. She decided to step back into her alcove not really caring what the argument was about, but stopped before she made it too far.

"You can't go around and just talk to _anybody_ , Amy. That boy is a Mudblood."

"But Allie, I was just looking at his toad. There's some boys who race their toads. His always wins."

"He is filth. Do _not_ speak to him again."

"But Allie…"

Alecto slapped her younger brother hard across the face. Septima gasped quietly and immediately covered her mouth with her hand hoping no one heard. Based on Alecto's continued berating of her brother, it appeared her secret was still safe. Amycus acted as if he was used to that kind of treatment. He did not even flinch when he was struck. Just hung his head and stared at his scuffed shoes.

"Stay away from those boys," Alecto ordered. "If they're willing to speak to filth, they're nothing but blood traitors."

"The winner always gets a galleon. I thought maybe I could train Eggy. It'd be nice to have pocket money like everyone else."

The sound of Alecto's palm cracking into her brother's cheek for the second time reverberated down the empty corridor. Amycus did not say a word. Only the silent tears streaming out of the boy's eyes proved he was upset.

"We don't need pocket money. We are Carrows. We are Sacred Twenty-Eight. Our name and our blood is more valuable than money. Is that understood?"

He seemed reluctant to agree to his sister's remark. Alecto pointed her wand at her brother. Yet again he did not even flinch. Threats of hexes and jinxes must have been another common occurrence.

" _Imperio_!"

Septima was shocked. No, shocked was not even a strong enough word to describe what she felt watching the girl use an Unforgivable Curse on her own brother. Exactly what kind of family were they? She heard rumors that the Carrows were strange. More than once she had personally witnessed Alecto's cruelty. Amycus seemed to do whatever his sister told him to do.

"You _will_ stay away from those boys. You _won't_ talk to any filth or blood traitors."

Amycus nodded his head in silent agreement. The smile on Alecto's plain features proved she was satisfied in the outcome.

"Come, brother. Dinner will be served soon."

Still hidden behind the tapestry, Septima watched the odd siblings walk away towards the main staircase. She was conflicted as to what she should do. It was not in her nature to go about recklessly saving people and turning the bad guys in, but she felt immense guilt thinking about how she simply stood by doing nothing while she witnessed the boy who just wanted to look at a toad and maybe win some money be brutalized by his elder sister.

Septima could not sleep that night. All through dinner her eyes kept landing on the Slytherin table. The boy did not say a single word to anyone through the entire meal. He simply stared at his plate and ate as if that meal was his last. She knew his family was overly proud of their heritage but very, very poor. It actually made her stomach physically hurt thinking that maybe Hogwarts was the only place he could guarantee he would always be fed. The Vectors lived comfortably. They weren't wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. She never once had to worry whether or not she would eat or if she had any pocket money.

The next morning she got out of bed earlier than any of her roommates. Sleep had been almost impossible. An idea came to her while she was trying to fall asleep that seemed absolutely mad. She dressed quickly and before she could talk herself out of it, she hurried off through the quiet castle to the Owlery. Every step up the stairs leading to the residence of the school owls made her feel even sillier. What was she thinking?

Once inside the top of the Owlery, Septima pulled a blank sheet of parchment out of her pocket. She folded it into a small pouch and slipped two shiny galleons inside. A few more folds and a sticking charm were required before she felt confident that the coins would not fall out during delivery. In a clear hand she wrote out the boy's name and nothing else. She called the owl her father gave her when she came of age from her perch.

"Bridget, make certain you give this to the _boy_ over breakfast. Not his sister."

Her owl, named for the famous Arithmancer Bridget Wenlock, hooted in reply. Septima smoothed down her feathers tenderly and gave her a treat. The sun was already rising. She had to run back to the Great Hall for breakfast. After slipping into her regular seat, she waited impatiently for the post to arrive.

The owls arrived all at once just as they usually did each morning. She tried not to make it noticeable that she was staring. Ignoring all of the birds flying overhead, the boy was shoveling eggs into his mouth like they were going to disappear. Her heartrate sped up when she saw Bridget hover over his plate. Septima looked quickly for his sister to make sure she wasn't watching. Alecto's full focus was at the end of the table where Evan Rosier was telling a loud story.

Bridget dropped the folded parchment on the boy's plate. He seemed perplexed by the unexpected delivery. Amycus turned it over to make certain it was meant for him before opening it. After reading his name, he tore open the magical seal. His eyes widened. Instantly his terrified eyes sought out his sister. The moment he realized she was not paying any attention to him, he slipped the whole parchment, galleons included, in his pocket. A hesitant smile crossed his face before he returned to eating. Septima felt good about what she'd done when she saw the usually solemn boy smile. She returned her focus to her own meal with a smile and warm feeling in her chest.

OOOOOO

Hogsmeade visits lost most of their appeal sometime around Septima's fifth year. She continued to go to avoid the taunts and complaints from her fellow Ravenclaws, but she did not enjoy them as she once did. Boys weren't exactly lining up to ask "Swotty Septy" out. Most likely they were afraid she would force them to spend all their time away from the castle in the dusty bookstore Tomes and Scrolls or that she would bore them to tears with lectures on Arithmancy or what she found interesting about Xylomancy. Only the horrid Black boy from Gryffindor ever asked her out and she was almost certain he only did so on a dare or because of a bet she was determined he was going to lose.

It was embarrassing being the only girl in her House and year without a date. She might not have actually wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot's but it would have been nice to at least be asked. Pretending to be thrilled by her friends' exciting afternoons by the lake and heated nights in the broom cupboards was a bit wearing. Her father always told her to ignore the vapid girls with nothing in their heads but boys and makeup charms. She looked just like her mother and her mother was the type of woman that grew more beautiful as she aged. He assured his insecure daughter that the day would come when the other girls would lose their looks and she would outshine them all. She loved her daddy even if he was a terrible liar.

OOOOOO

After classes were over on the Monday following the first Hogwarts visit of the year, Septima retreated to her hiding place with her Ancient Runes homework. The assignment was fascinating enough that she lost all track of time. Her gurgling stomach was the reminder she needed that dinner was likely about to be served downstairs. As she was shoving her books into her bag she heard muffled arguing again. She looked out behind the tapestry to find the Carrow siblings engaged in another debate just steps away. Why weren't they in the dungeons with the other snakes? Why were they always interrupting her peace and quiet?

She held up what looked like a chocolate frog box. Amycus' eyes were downcast and he would not answer.

"Did you steal this?"

"No!"

"Then where did you get it?"

Amycus still would not answer his insistent sister's questions. Alecto reached into his pocket and pulled out a sickle. His eyes grew wide with fear and she was clearly furious.

"Where do you get this, Amy? Tell me!"

Alecto pulled her wand out. Septima was worried. She had already witnessed him be placed under an Unforgivable Curse. What was his sister planning next? She was terrified that the boy would be hurt and it would be all of her fault. She was the one who gave him the money. _She_ was the reason he had a chocolate frog and a sickle.

"Maybe I'll loosen your tongue like Father. _Crucio_!"

Amycus immediately fell to the hard stone floor. He was trying very hard not to scream. It sickened Septima to realize that it was not the first time he'd been held under the torture curse. She could not bear to think what he had had to endure in his fifteen years. Without really even thinking the consequences of her actions through, Septima had her wand in her hand. A quick stunner to Alecto stopped the curse. She reached out of the tapestry to pull the injured boy inside her sanctuary. Once inside she knelt to check on him.

"Are you all right?"

He just lay on the ground without saying a word. His entire body trembled from the aftershocks of the horrible curse. Septima carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes, noticing for the first time how blue his tear-filled eyes were.

"Thank you." His voice was hardly loud enough to be classified as a whisper.

"Are you hurt? Do you need Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, I'll be all right."

With her assistance, he was able to sit up with his back leaned against the stone bench. Septima sat next to him in silence for a long time. Neither one of them knew what to say. Amycus was clearly embarrassed. Finally after they sat together not speaking, he was able to stand back up on his own. He could not look Septima in the eye.

"Please don't tell anyone what happened," he begged.

"Does she do that a lot?"

"Not as much when we're at school."

Septima could feel her eyes fill up with tears. Just what kind of horrible home life did he have? Clearly mortified by the attention, Amycus rushed out from behind the tapestry. He rennervated his sister. Alecto yelled at him again. Before she could even think about cursing him again, Septima stepped out from behind the tapestry. She made certain that she made enough noise with her shoes that her sudden appearance was not missed. Though still furious with her brother, Alecto dropped her wand. Both siblings scurried off towards the Great Hall for dinner with the Ravenclaw only steps behind the entire way.

She never saw the Carrow siblings argue again during her Seventh year. Many times she caught Amycus looking in her direction, but each time when she caught him he would hastily look away.

OOOOOO

Returning to Hogwarts after the Headmaster's murder was a daunting prospect. Both her father and her older brother begged Septima to stop teaching. They both offered their homes to her and even promised to support her financially if necessary. The thought of being wholly dependent on another person again gave Septima such anxiety that she knew hiding with her loved ones was not a viable option. Besides, she felt a responsibility to her students to return. With no husband or children of her own, she loved her students and was worried about them. Their world had become a very frightening place in a short time.

She was nervous about the news that Severus Snape was to be the new Headmaster. They were in the same year at school and had always been friendly to each other since they were teaching together. Septima had trouble believing that he was responsible for Albus' death no matter how often she heard Minerva or Rubeus whisper about it. She knew there would be changes but tried to remain positive.

A week before the first term began in September there was a full staff meeting. Whispers all around the table of horrific acts going on outside the relative safety of their castle spread anxiety and fear through the assembled staff. Septima tried to ignore what was happening outside. It felt safer that way.

Severus swooped into the room with his customary black robes swirling behind him to effectively silence all conversations. The harsh glares he was receiving from some of the others made Septima shift uncomfortably in her chair. She almost felt sorry for him.

Minerva scoffed loudly from the end of the table and rolled her eyes.

"Instead of a single Deputy Headmistress, we will instead have a Deputy Headmistress _and_ a Deputy Headmaster."

Concerned staff members around the table made silent eye contact with each other. No one had ever heard of _two_ deputies before. Minerva was very angry. Her arms were crossed and she looked as if she could shoot fire out of her eyes. Septima was very curious to know who would share the role with Minerva.

The door opened only moments later. Septima was startled to see Amycus and Alecto Carrow enter together with smug looks on their faces. Cries of outrage sounding throughout the room were quickly silenced by Severus. The Headmaster made the official introductions of their new Muggle Studies and Dark Arts professors. Apparently there would be no _defense_ against anything under the new regime. Amycus' eyes widened slightly when they fell on her face. For the rest of the meeting she could feel eyes on her almost the entire time. It made focusing on what Severus was saying almost impossible.

Septima rushed from the room the moment the meeting was adjourned to run and hide in her private quarters. Somehow she managed to avoid Amycus until the first day of term. The Sorting Feast was without a doubt the most awkward and uncomfortable feast she had ever been to. There were lots of empty places at the tables for missing students despite Hogwarts being mandatory for all young British witches and wizards. Amycus sat two chairs down from hers next to Severus. Just as she used to for most of her seventh year, she could feel him turn his gaze in her direction many times. She wished he would stop.

The first day of classes had been tense. Everyone in the castle seemed to be on edge. Determined that her students would receive a proper education on Arithmancy even with a war raging all around them, Septima did her best to make it seem like a normal day. After another uncomfortable dinner, she decided to go for a walk through the almost deserted corridors. Most of the students went straight to their common rooms after the meal.

She did not even intend to end up back on the fourth floor. Though her private alcove still held a special part of her heart, she rarely used it anymore. There were few opportunities. No one teased her about disappearing inside a book anymore and she had a lovely suite of comfortable rooms just a few levels above on the seventh floor connected to her classroom and private office. Septima pulled back the tapestry and stepped into the familiar space.

Almost immediately she regretted her action. Amycus was standing at the window with both hands on the sill. He turned his head around just as she entered. There was no way to slip away unnoticed. He spun his entire body away from the glass to face hers.

"Excuse me. I didn't know anyone was in here. I'll leave you to your privacy."

She tried to scramble back out the way she came in.

"Wait."

His quiet plea stopped her feet. Septima sighed. Her plan to avoid the Death Eaters running the school was not going very well.

"I used to spend a lot of time in here the last two years I was in school," he declared.

"Except two rowing berks who always avoided the dungeons when they needed to talk?"

His cheeks flushed at the words that just tumbled out of his mouth. For the first time since he returned to Hogwarts, she was reminded of the shy boy he once was. His status as Deputy Headmaster and as a trusted Death Eater gave him enough confidence to patrol through the corridors with a menacing grin designed to terrorize, but alone in the alcove he was much altered.

"I never apologized for bothering you."

Septima sighed again and sat down on the bench. Amycus remained standing, his deep blue eyes flickering between his heavy boots and his companion.

"There was never anything to apologize for," she replied. "We were all children. _You_ certainly didn't ask your sister to curse you."

"It's embarrassing. Having a sister like Allie sometimes."

She did not know how to respond to such a statement. Amycus turned back around to stare at the dark grounds.

"I forgot you taught here until I saw you the other day."

"I've been here a long time. Hogwarts is my home."

Amycus rotated his body back around to look her in the eye again. A small quirk of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"No husband or children?"

An almost bitter laugh escaped from Septima's mouth at the innocent question she'd heard thousands of times over the years. It was something she was tired of answering.

"Who would ever fancy 'Swotty Septy'?"

She tried to pretend for years that that name did not bother her, but even as an adult in her late thirties, it still stung. Even when she was the one saying it. Amycus cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with her response. She was used to it. Very few people ever knew what to say around her.

"I remember a boy who fancied you quite a bit actually."

Septima's brow furrowed as she stared back at the man following his soft announcement. Surely he was just teasing her? Her father's words of advice as a child had come at least partially true. As she grew older and began to leave that horrid stage of awkwardness behind, eventually she became a handsome woman. She would certainly never outshine all of the prettier girls, but she was no longer ' _Spotty_ Swotty Septy'. There had even been a few men in her past. None of them lasted for very long. A slightly older wizard from Beauxbatons who sat for his Arithmancy Mastery at the same time she did. Remus Lupin only for a few heated nights in the cold winter of his single year as a professor. Igor Karkaroff for most of the year that he was stuck in Scotland for the Triwizard Tournament. A bookseller from Hogsmeade on and off for a few years. She'd even shared a snog or two with Severus under enchanted mistletoe during one drunken staff Christmas party early on in her career. Never had she been the kind of girl or woman who was _fancied_ by anyone. She was simply the person others were with until something better came along. The realization of that fact did not sting as much as it used to. Too many years of harsh reality.

"If you're referring to Sirius Black, he never _fancied_ me. He simply saw me as a conquest, a joke. Someone to tease and laugh about later with his idiot mates."

"I wasn't talking about Sirius Black."

Amycus' voice was little above a whisper and he could not meet her eyes. Even in the dim light of the alcove she could see a patch of pink start at the base of his neck and creep up to his sallow cheeks. She was certainly not unintelligent, but social cues were something she had very little practical experience with. His words completely missed their mark. With her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, she continued to stare at the wizard waiting for something he said to make sense.

"Salazar's slimy slag, woman! I'm talking about _me_."

"Oh," was all she could reply.

"Don't tell me you didn't know," he replied, laughing softly. "I made a fool out of myself Fifth year. Used to stare at you. Followed you to the library more times than I want to admit to. Tried to work up the courage the rest of that year to talk to you, but I was too embarrassed."

She still did not know what to say. It was all so many years ago. Part of her did find it sad and a little disappointing that Amycus did not speak to her again after that day she stopped his sister from cursing him. She worried about him. Constantly checked to make sure she did not see any visible injuries when he would walk into the Great Hall for meals. Not a single person had probably ever been nice to him in his life up until that point. Septima took a deep breath in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

"I left you all of those ridiculous folded animals."

"I loved those!" she declared with a vehemence that startled them both.

A hesitant smile crossed his lips that she felt compelled to mirror. The bumblebee had only been the first animal. Every week or so she would return to the alcove to find a different animal perched on the windowsill. He had a talent for what the Muggles called origami. Each animal was charmed to move. Her favorite, after the bumblebee, was the miniature elephant that made quiet trumpeting sounds when it moved its trunk.

"I still have the bumblebee," she admitted softly.

Amycus' eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. He was clearly shocked to discover she was still holding onto a memento from almost twenty years earlier. Septima wasn't sure what inspired her to keep it tucked between the pages of one of her favorite books. She honestly rarely thought about it until the piece of parchment fell from the pages. The spell had long ago worn off and it was so flattened it was almost impossible to tell what it once was, but still she kept it.

"I tried to make a dragon recently," he explained, moving across the space to sit next to her on the bench. "It looked perfect. Had a long tail that moved on its own. Even breathed fire. I worked on it for hours. Forgot something important."

"Fire burns parchment?"

His abrupt laughter echoed through the small alcove. It was an unexpected sound, something that Septima had certainly never heard before. Somehow she got the feeling that even in the years since they left school his life had not improved to the point where laughter was a common occurrence. She thought it a pleasant sound, one that she hoped he would have more opportunities to employ in the future.

"It lasted about ten seconds before it was nothing but ashes," he laughed. "Wish I had thought that spell through more before I tried it."

"You may be the only person who has ever been kind to me without an ulterior motive," he admitted.

"That's very sad."

"Why did you do that?" Amycus asked. "No one has ever stopped Allie before. Usually they're afraid of her."

"I could not bear to watch her hurt you," she answered. "And I felt it was all my fault that she was hurting you."

"Why would it be _your_ fault?"

He turned his body towards hers to examine her reaction. Septima could always tell when he was staring at her. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she had been able to tell when they were in school together after _that_ day and then during the staff meeting. For the past two days when they were in the same room, she could feel his gaze on her again. Embarrassed by her blurting out part of the secret she never wanted to reveal, Septima kept her eyes focused on her hands in her lap.

"I was the one who sent you the galleons."

When he did not immediately respond to her confession, Septima gathered enough courage to hazard a look in his direction. Amycus stared at her without blinking, almost as if he was trying to solve the answer to a difficult riddle. She did not want him to ask her why she sent them. It would be too mortifying for both of them. She would have to admit that she overheard the first row he had with Alecto where she put him under the Imperius Curse. She did not want him to feel like she sent him the galleons because she felt sorry for him or that he was some kind of charity.

Amycus cleared his throat and released a deep sigh.

"That was very kind of you. Thank you."

Septima felt relieved that he did not seem to want a further explanation than what she provided. They sat in the quiet of the alcove for a long time without speaking. She did not know why she continued to stay there or why Amycus had not stormed out already.

"There are going to be a lot of changes in the school this year," he declared, his voice still soft and quiet. "Some will be good, but others…"

She forgot her reluctance to meet his eyes. The smug and menacing façade she had seen plastered across his features while in the presence of other staff members and students was missing. He almost looked like he did when he was fifteen and begging her not to tell anyone he'd just been crucioed.

"We are under strict orders. The Dark Lord has plans for this school. Plans for all education of magical children in the future. Discipline will be harsh for any that do not conform."

"Harsh? How harsh?"

"Allie..."

Septima held up a hand to stop him from talking. He complied.

"I've seen how your sister _disciplines_ children."

"Yes, it will be very unpopular, but we have no choice. I will understand if you don't want to be seen to be friendly with me. The other staff members already don't trust us."

She did not need his permission to ignore him outside the confines of their secret hiding place. It was already going to be difficult enough with some of the most staunchly pro-Dumbledore staff who never appreciated in the past when she took Severus' side. Even before the murder of the previous Headmaster, her friendship with the former Potions Master was viewed with a hint of suspicion from several of the older women on staff. Minerva had already made it perfectly clear to Septima that she would not trust her colleague any longer if she continued to agree with Severus. All she needed was for them to get a whiff of some kind of personal connection with the new Deputy Headmaster and they would never let the issue drop.

Septima rose from the bench. After using her hands to smooth down some of the wrinkles that developed while she was seated, she turned to face the wizard.

"I did not stop your sister from using an Unforgivable curse on you just so you could torture children."

"Septima, wait."

"At some point this war will end, Amycus. It will end and if you don't start making your own decisions, I'm certain you will live to regret it."

Amycus stood from his seat on the bench. Though she wanted to run away from him, Septima remained still. He had grown taller in the years that passed since they were last alone. They used to be about the same height. To meet his eyes, Septima had to tilt her head up.

"I will do everything in my power to keep you protected," he promised. His tone was soft, so similar to how he used to speak as a boy. "Even if you don't want to speak to me again."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't need your protection. Nor do I want it."

Amycus' hand reached out to grasp her elbow. The gentle gesture made the Arithmancy professor inhale sharply. Somehow, instinctively she knew she had nothing to fear from him, but the simple act of his touch made her traitorous body react in a manner she knew it shouldn't. When his second hand reached for her other elbow and he began tenderly rubbing his hands up and down her arms in a slow, hypnotic manner, she almost forgot why she had been in such a hurry to rush out.

"You once protected me. It's only fair that I repay you."

"You don't owe me anything, Amycus."

"Then I will keep you protected simply because I want to."

"Amycus…"

Anything she might have said in response was cut off by the hesitant pressing of his lips against hers. Septima was too startled by the affectionate act to move. Her mind went to war against her body. As the timid man grew more confident in his actions, Septima found it easier to ignore the warnings her brain was shouting. She knew she should not allow him to kiss her and she certainly shouldn't kiss him back.

He tasted of red wine and unfulfilled promises of a future that could not be. Too much had happened since they were last alone in the alcove. He'd made his choices. She'd made hers. Maybe once upon a time they could have been something. Made a home together and had a family. It tore at her heart that the one person she could not save him from was himself.

The saltiness of her tears changed the flavor of their ardent moment. Her warnings returned to the forefront of her mind. With her hands placed on his chest, she gently pushed him away. His cheeks were dry, but his deep blue eyes threatened to overflow. She was not the only one who felt it. He knew they could never exist outside of their sanctuary.

He did not try to stop her again as she stormed out of the alcove. Part of her hated to walk away without resolving whatever it was that was going on between them, though she meant what she said. She might not be interested in actively engaging in the war as some kind of soldier or fighter, but she refused to passively offer her approval of his actions by saying nothing.

It would be a long and difficult year for everyone within the castle.

* * *

 **Reviews: Positive only**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	20. One Spark (Number 19)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry: One Spark (Number 19)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Angst**

 **Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Neville Longbottom**

 **Trigger** **Warnings: Mention of torture if you squint**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **One Spark**

* * *

The halls are dark and damp, the only source of light coming from the moon that filters through the windows. She doesn't dare use her wand, not when there are professors around every corner. There always are these days. And if she happened to run into Snape…well, she doesn't want to even think about that.

She shouldn't be out here, she knows that. It is dangerous and foolish and quiet possibly one of the more idiotic ideas she has ever had. She should be tucked safe and sound in the Room of Requirements. But the problem with that idea is her friends. They wouldn't let her leave, at least not by herself. And while their intentions were good, she would never risk someone else getting hurt because of her.

No. This was something she had to do alone. He would hate it if she got caught, that was a given. But if someone else also suffered an Unforgivable on his account? He would hate that even more.

So she had hid in an unused classroom after dinner, waited there well past midnight. Waited until she was sure the Carrows would be gone. And only then did she tiptoe out, wrapping her cloak around her thin body, smaller than it should be. But how could she think about eating in times like these? When they were out there - her brother, friend, the boy she loved. Risking their life everyday. Food seemed insignificant in comparison.

Neville had tried to help, and Luna before she disappeared after holidays. He would slip her bits of pumpkin cake, swiped from the kitchens, and plead with her to eat something. She would nibble the edges after insisting he share half of it. She knew he only humored her because of that worry hidden in his eyes, the worry that never fully went away. It was mirrored in her own brown ones, she knew it was. Dark with the constant worry that came with this life. Fear for her friends, her family, everyone left at Hogwarts - a number that was vastly dwindling with each passing day.

More and more forced to go into hiding. The Carrows subjecting everyone to their whims, no one was safe except for the Slytherins. And even her, a Pureblood labeled a blood traitor, had to face their detentions. Which was why she was sneaking around the corridors this late, despite the danger that came with it.

It sure was a good thing Ginny Weasley never ran from her fears. Otherwise she might be bolting off at every odd sound the old castle made, what paintings remained shifting in their portraits as the wind seemed to howl through the chilled hallway. Heading back certainly would be the more intelligent thing to do, with the way things were these days. But Neville didn't call her stubborn for no reason. If he could see her now, she knew exactly what he would say. But he wasn't here. And that was the whole point of this late night expedition, the reason she was risking being caught out so late.

It didn't take her long to find the classroom the Carrow's used for their nightly "detentions". She knew this castle better than most. Between the twins and Harry, she certainly knew her way around. Their combined information leading her past the trick stairwell on the second floor, giving a wide berth to the haunted suit of armor, and darting out of sight at the sound of footsteps.

She hid in the shadows for a moment, those dark eyes scanning the hallway just in case. It was quiet, the door to the room left ajar. Their arrogance would also be their downfall, there wasn't even a curse left on it. So sure of their ability to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who would dare come near. Everyone except for her.

She moves forward, wand hand casting a few silent charms to make sure it is safe. But the area seems deserted, and she presses onward. Wand gripped tightly in hand, not letting her arm relax for even a moment. She slips silently into the room, shutting the door just as quietly behind her. Even without light she knows where she is going, drawn to the back of the room like a moth to flame. Eyes blazing with determination. She too had suffered detention in this very room.

Even so, what awaits her at the far wall is not what she had been expecting. Black cords wrap around his ankles, up his arms, hanging off his body that quivers against them. They are loose, the magic having already gone. Confirming that she did indeed just miss them, but that isn't what she is thinking about. Her eyes are drawn to him, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. His body convulsing with the familiar twitches from one too many Cruciatus curses. Sweat sticks to his forehead, hair plastered against the side of his face. Muscles tense, as if every part of him is clenching in fear. And his eyes, shut tightly as if to block out the memory of what happened in this room.

Before she knows what she is doing, she is there. Kneeling down in front of him, hands reaching out only to pause. Hovering in midair, unsure of themselves. Then, ever so softly, she brings one to his face, brushing her cool fingertips against his forehead.

"Neville…"

He flinches. She withdrawals her hand as if it had been burned instead. But he doesn't notice, his eyes wide but unfocused as they glance wildly around the room. Darting first to the door, then down each row of desks before finally landing on her. Relief floods his features only to be replaced to something akin to anger. She frowns.

"Ginny! You shouldn't be here." His voice is horse, as if he has been screaming all night. And her heart cracks at that thought, something coming loose there in her chest.

"When a girl sneaks out to see you in the middle of the night, I'm pretty sure 'you shouldn't be here' is the last thing you should say." The corner of her lips twitch up in a teasing smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Not with him like this, broken and still worried about her. "For future reference."

"Ginny," And his voice is softer this time, even as his body trembles from that curse.

But before he can go on, she is reaching for him again. A small wave of her wand, banishing the cords away. They leave behind no trace, except for the tainted red that scars his skin, matching the shade of her hair. Gently her fingers dance across his wrist. He flinches again, but doesn't pull away. She can feel her eyes becoming glossy, but she doesn't cry. It has been a long time since she allowed herself that luxury. "I wasn't going to leave you here."

"I know. But you still shouldn't have come."

Her heart breaks again. And she wonders how much more it can take, how many hits and pulls before it unravels completely, leaving her chest hollow with only the sting as a reminder. She keeps her gaze on his wrist, slender fingers still tracing across the indent. "How long ago did they leave?"

"I don't know." Then he is moving to sit up, and her hands are reaching for him. Helping him as best as she can manage, even as they threaten to shake as badly as he is. A groan, a sharp intake of breath, but somehow they manage. And she is there, clutching his side with a sudden need to be close to him. Burying her head into his shoulder to stop the sting in her eyes. His hands, so calloused and rough, brush her hair away. Tender in a way only years of working with vicious and unstable plants can teach you to be.

They don't say anything for a long time. Him, leaning against the wall, his hands rubbing idly down her back. And Ginny, leaning into him, feeling every bit selfish. But she needs that closeness, she needs that gentle touch and the small reminder that even now, in this war, they have each other. And maybe he needs it too.

Finally, she shifts. Moving back until she can reach into the pocket of her robe, pulling out a small vial of amber colored liquid. "I brought you something. I should have given you this first…"

He would ask how she got it, but they both know exactly how. Sneaking into Snape's private stores is not something she should be doing, but he doesn't comment on it. Just gives her a look, not one of anger or disappointment, just concern. Glancing over her as if to reassure himself she is fine. He takes it, after a moment. But his hands tremble so much she has to uncap it for him and help him drink it down. She notices almost right away how his tremors seems to fade, and for that she is thankful.

"We should get back, can you walk?"

He nods, but even so she makes no move to leave and neither does he. Instead she lets her head fall back against him, exhaustion taking hold as she leans into the crook of that arm, feeling it wrap firmly around her. Safe. That is the only word to explain how she feels, and that in itself is bizarre. But she closes her eyes, and for a moment it is easy to pretend that this isn't happening. That they are somewhere far away, no Hogwarts, no war, no Carrow siblings to harm them. There is just them.

His thoughts seem to be similar, judging from the way his hold tightens just a bit. And how he dips his lips down hesitantly, planting a tender kiss on her head. Soft. Gentle. Everything their world is not. She sighs into him, her body relaxing even as her mind protests. But it is easy to do here, around him. Easy to forget their troubles, even for just a moment. But soon, even that too fades. And she is left with a worry she can't explain.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" She hates how her voice wavers at that, just the smallest bit, but it is there. She presses on. "Don't lie to me, Neville. I know how you take the blame for others, for me. I know half of these detentions you serve should be mine. You have to stop doing that, you can't keep-"

"Shh, Gin." He interrupts her, a firmness in his voice that is new, startling. She twists in his arms until she can see him, but his face gives nothing away. His fingers absently rub against her arm, tracing small circles that are meant to be comforting, but still manage to come out more distracting. "You know I won't stop. Just like I know you won't stop either. We do what we have to. And for every curse directed at me, it means one less you have to take. I will never apologize for that."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I know that. You are one of the strongest witches I have ever met. You are talented and strong and so brave Ginny. You are stubborn and reckless beyond belief, but you have a spirit in you. You fight for what you know is right. And even now, you are the first to jump in when someone needs help. You came out here to help me, in the middle of the night because it is who you are. You could have been caught, and you know better than most what would have happened. Lifting that potion from Snape…you don't care what happens to you, as long as you are protecting us. I've seen you with those first years, you look after them. You fight when you shouldn't have to, just so someone else doesn't need to. Ginny…can't you see? I don't want them to put that fire out. So if I have to take a few extra detentions so you can stay strong, then I will. I will take them a hundred times over so you never lose that spark."

She stares at him. For one, long moment, neither of them say anything. Vaguely aware that his hand has stilled against her arm, that a new emotion creeps into his eyes, and it is worry of a completely different kind. But she can't see that right now, not with the way her heart is racing in her chest.

With no warning she presses forward, her lips crashing against his with a need, a craving she can't explain. She kisses him with a passion that stems from the root of what is left of her heart. Her soul. Her entire being. And for a terrifying moment he does nothing, completely frozen under her lips. But then his hands are wrapping her up, holding her close, kissing her just as passionately.

She loves Harry, she will always love Harry. But this is different. This is something she can never explain, it is too complicated. As strong as she is, she needs someone. And Neville is comforting. He is safe and smells like herbs, and this might not be love, but it is what they need.

* * *

 **Reviews: Positive only with a maybe a touch of constructive criticism.**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	21. Trial & Error (Number 20)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Trial & Error** **(Number 20)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre:** **Smut, Romance**

 **Pairing:** **Theo Nott/ Draco Malfoy**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Trial & Error**

* * *

" **Veritaserum or Dare" idea credit goes to Shayalonnie.**

"Shut the fuck up, Theo." Draco hissed as the couple of them made their way through one of the many secret passageways in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The two of them had snuck out of the school to get some of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey. Being only sixth years, they definitely had to be sneaky. After retrieving the alcohol, they were now on their way back into the school to the Slytherin common room, where Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and a couple of other Slytherins were awaiting their arrival.

Theo would not stop with the bloody jokes and talking about how he was going to fucking shag Daphne's drunk brains that night. Draco was sure his best mate was going to get them caught. "You're just jealous because you won't be the one scoring tonight." Theo smirked. He had had a thing for Daphne for nearly two years and, after many months of subtle flirting between the two, Theo was sure he was finally going to get some alone time with her.

"I'm serious Theo. Shut up. We are not going to get caught sneaking back into the school with this." Draco hissed again, waving the bottle he was holding in front of Theo's face. The two of them had arrived at the entrance to the school from the tunnel they were in. Draco slowly opened the portrait that the tunnel was hidden behind and checked to see that the coast was clear. "Let's go." He said quietly before shrinking the bottle down to be more easily hidden in his robes. Theo did the same with the second bottle he was holding.

Theo and Draco made their way down to the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was held. "Caput Draconis." Draco spoke the password aloud and the two were let into the common room. The group that was waiting for them immediately dashed to the entrance. "Did you get it?" Pansy asked with an excited look in her eye. "Yeah, yeah." Draco drawled, putting his bottle out and enlarging it back to its original size.

 **XXX**

It didn't take long for the group to get too intoxicated for their own good. They had spent over an hour just chatting and laughing, when Daphne giggled and let out her new brilliant idea. "We should play a game." She giggled again, her face warming as a blush spread across her cheeks. "It's called truth or dare. I think it's a muggle-born thing. But we can make it fun and add Veritaserum."

Draco's eyes practically bulged out of his head. He definitely didn't need to be spilling his secrets. No one in the room knew about his Death Eater duties, that was for sure. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Greengrass?"

"Hey, dun't you f'cking talk to her like that." Theo snapped, slurring his words. Clearly he was more drunk than some of the others.

Draco simply rolled his eyes. "Where would we even get Veritaserum anyway?" He asked, hoping this question would deter the thought of the horrid idea for a game.

"I already stole some from Snape's office." Daphne said, beaming. She definitely had something up her sleeve.

 _Fucking excellent._ Draco grumbled slightly. "Fine. But only a tiny bit."

Giggling harder than Daphne, Pansy was now joining in. "What's wrong Dwaco? Have too many secwets to share with your dear fwiends?" She obnoxiously laughed at her own joke. "Don't be such a prat. It will be fun." The pug faced Slytherin gave an ugly smirk as Daphne ran off to retrieve her stolen Veritaserum, only to return minutes later.

Once Daphne returned, she put two drops of the Veritaserum into the full second bottle of Firewhiskey. "I'll go first." She cleared her throat and looked around. "Blaise. Truth or dare?" Blaise stared blankly at her, not sure what to pick. He decided to play it safe and said "Dare." Daphne grinned deviously and stared him down before replying with "I dare you to kiss Parkinson."

Blaise's chocolate brown eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at the girl sitting next to him, who was blushing as she waited for her kiss to come. And come it did. Blaise, a little too drunk, crashed his lips with hers, kissing her hard for a little longer than necessary. Pulling away, he looked back at Daphne smugly. "So is it my turn now." Daphne laughed and nodded her head, giving the okay to choose who he wanted as his victim. "Theo. Truth or dare?" Theo instantly chose truth and took a drink of his laced firewhiskey, ready to reveal whatever juicy secret Blaise would force out of him. "Do you have a crush on Daphne?" Theo could not keep the words from flowing out of his mouth and he wasn't sure he really wanted to anyway. "Fuck yes I do. Look at her." He smirked when a blush spread across Daphne's smug face.

Next, it was Theo's turn and he managed to wrangle Daphne into choosing "truth". "Do you or do you not return my feelings for you?" He waggled his eyebrows as he continued. "I don't see how you couldn't. Look at me. I'm fucking charming, aren't I?" Daphne laughed and spilled out a simple "Yes I do."

Now it was Daphne's turn and she was going to have fun with this. "Draco. Truth or dare?" Draco, not wanting to go anywhere near that Veritaserum, opted to go with "dare." Daphne's eyes looked almost demonic as she thought of the dare that she knew would probably be the most agonizing for Draco to fulfill. "Kiss Theo. On the mouth. With tongue."

Theo, who was in the middle of a non-laced drink of firewhiskey, spit halfway across the common room. "What?!" He and Draco both exclaimed at the same time. Daphne crossed her arms and smirked. "You have you to."

Draco groaned as he leaned in to kiss Theo. His best mate. Incredibly close to the bottom of a list of people he definitely would not want to be snogging with. But he did. Draco slowly put his mouth to Theo's and pushed his tongue into his mouth, holding the kiss. Theo, surprisingly, kissed back. And then the strangest thing happened. The two of them actually _enjoyed_ the bloody kiss.

Draco quickly pulled away and took an unusually large drink of his non-lace firewhiskey. That was fucking weird. But somehow, comforting. Must have been the bloody firewhiskey.

 **XXX**

The night went on with Veritaserum or Dare for at least two more hours. Blaise and Pansy had snuck off to the dorms, casting several locking charms so Theo or Draco couldn't follow. Daphne had drunk so much that her small frame was passed out in front of the fire place. It looked like Theo's shagging plan wasn't going to work out after all.

Theo opened his mouth several times like he wanted to say something but nothing came out. He wanted to ask about the kiss from earlier that had been on his mind. It had felt like Draco actually _enjoyed_ it. Hell, Theo had actually _enjoyed_ it. That was bloody fucking weird for the both of them. Instead of getting up any courage to mention it, the two stayed in an awkward silence, staring into the flames of the fire place.

Draco could feel the tense air between him and Theo like a wall. What the fuck had happened between them? Certainly, Draco couldn't have _enjoyed_ snogging his best mate. They were just that: mates. And Draco Malfoy was certainly the furthest possible thing from being fucking gay. Just the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about that bloody kiss was making him feel dirty. "I need a shower. I'll be back." He said before getting up and leaving the common room before Theo could even say a word.

Theo stared at the unconscious Daphne on the couch, thinking he should probably stay and keep an eye on her. But a strong tug was pulling his subconscious away. He was being pulled out of the Slytherin common room and down the hall to where the bathroom was. The drunk Slytherin looked back and forth between the girl and common room entrance, trying to make up his mind.

 _Fuck._ Theo thought, before grabbing his wand and casting a levitating charm to send Daphne to the girl's dormitory and into her bed. Once she was safe in bed, Theo followed the strange feeling that was pulling him out of the common room and down the hall to where the bathroom was.

 **XXX**

Draco was standing in the hot shower, staring blankly at the wall, letting his mind wander when he heard the curtain open and someone step inside. He turned to see a naked Theo and his eyes widened. "What the fu-." Before he could even finish, Theo had closed the space between them and crushed their lips together, gently slipping his tongue in Draco's mouth to relive what had happened in the common room earlier. Draco stopped protesting almost immediately when he realized how good it felt to have that tongue in his mouth.

 _What am I doing? What is this? And why do I actually like it?_ A million thoughts were running through the blonde's head as he continued to snog his best friend. He was incredibly surprised to feel himself harden against the body in front of him. He was surprised to recognize the feeling of wanting more, wanting to devour the wizard he was snogging.

Theo felt the hardness of Draco against his thigh and his own hardness greeted it, lightly touching it and moving against it as the two of them started grinding against each other. Theo let out a low moan. _Fuck why does this feel so good._ He knew he wasn't into wizards but something about this felt. . . _Right._

The couple twisted their hands into the other's hair as their snogging deepened, becoming more and more hungry. Draco pulled away, finally. Without even questioning his next moves, he began to slowly kiss along Theo's jaw. He kissed down to the hollow of his neck, where his kisses became more rough and eager. His kissing turned into biting and sucking, leaving faint traces along the wizard's neck. Theo moaned and Draco's hardness only grew harder.

Grabbing the fellow Slytherin's silvery blonde hair, Theo roughly pulled him away and turned onto his neck. He was a lot rougher than Draco. He didn't start out soft. He immediately took what he wanted, sucking, biting, so hard there were sure to be bruises. Draco didn't seem to mind though. He groaned at the feeling, his hardness now throbbing for more. Theo gave him exactly what he wanted.

The cheeky Slytherin laughed against Draco's neck. "You like that?" His voice was husky as he continued to kiss down the wizard's body until he got to his throbbing cock that was glistening in the shower water.

Theo hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do. He had never shagged a wizard before. Grabbing the length before him, he slowly started to stroke it, eyeing Draco's reaction. Pleased with the way Draco bit his lip at the feeling, Theo then began to lick it from base to tip. He smirked as he watched the blonde's eyes roll back in his head. He then swiftly took the whole member into his mouth, smirking with his mouth full as Draco cried out a loud "Fuck!" and leaned back to brace himself against the shower wall. Oh yes, Theo was enjoying this, letting all awkward feelings be swallowed away and instead, just savoring the taste of Draco in his mouth.

Draco gasped as Theo's sucking became rougher and his teeth barely grazed the throbbing length in his mouth. "Fuck. So good." He managed to blurt out between loud moans as he twisted his hands into Theodore's hair and began to thrust himself deeper inside his mouth. The blonde bit his lip hard, tasting blood. But still, even that did not keep him from crying out, screaming as he released himself into Theo's mouth, having quite possibly the best orgasm of his life.

Theo smiled at what he was able to do to the other wizard and chuckled as he felt his hair being pulled, forcing him back to a standing position. Wasting no time, Draco immediately dropped to his knees to return the favor. There was even less hesitation with Draco as he thought to himself, _just do what he did to you._

The groans immediately started rumbling in Theo's chest as the head of blonde hair stroked his cock, teasingly licking the tip. "Holy fucking Merlin." Was shagging a wizard always this good?

From there it only got better as Draco took Theo into his mouth, just as swiftly as Theo had done to him. Theo nearly fell over in the slippery shower as he tried to grab for something – anything – brace himself with. "Fuck. Fuck. Merlin." Theo could barely get out a coherent thought as he used one hand to grab at the blonde head of wet hair surrounding him below the abdomen. Draco smirked with his mouth full and went deeper until Theo had to slide against the wall down to a sitting position. His legs were absolutely not doing their job anymore.

With a loud moan and a mumbled string of profanities, Theo came into Draco's mouth, breathing heavily as he did so. Draco pulled away and spit the release down the shower drain. "I'm not bloody swallowing if that's what you were expecting," Draco said with a scowl and Theo laughed.

 **XXX**

The next morning, Theo and Draco awoke in their beds with a terrible, horrible, no good headache. Theo groaned and turned to open the curtains around his four poster and look at Draco, who was doing the same. The memories of the night before flooded over them and they both stared at each other, wide eyed with bright red cheeks.

"I swear to fucking Salazar Slytherin, Theo. You do not tell a single soul what happened last night. Got it?" Draco said before closing the curtain again and falling back on his pillow with a groan. He thought he should be completely weirded out by what had happened. He certainly wasn't gay. But he remembered every second of the night before. Every glorious second in which he was enjoying the best bloody shag he had ever had.

Before Draco had a chance to close the curtain, Theo nodded and held up a "thumbs up". He wished they could talk about what happened. That was not just any shag. There was something there that was different than anything simply casual. But perhaps they would have to talk another time, if at all. All Theo knew was he wanted to do it again.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Any positivity or constructive criticism welcome!**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	22. A Promise Kept (Number 21)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **A Promise Kept** **(Number 21)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre:** **Romance/Angst/Drama**

 **Pairing:** **Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson**

 **Trigger Warnings: Angst, Smut, Language**

 **Beta Note:** **A huge thanks to my beta** **PhoenixPixie. This story would not be the same without her amazing input.**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **A Promise Kept**

* * *

May 1998

" _What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!"_

Pansy's screech echoed through the Great Hall, slicing the chilly silence in two. Several students gasped. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, regarding her with disdain. She didn't care.

At that moment, it felt… _perfect_.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

October 1996

Pansy Parkinson hated flying.

No, not hated, precisely. More like _despised_. Abhorred. Detested.

She could never quite handle a broom with the ease the others in Hooch's class had. Besides, no self-respecting Pure-blood witch would ever— _ever_ —allow herself to fly when there were far more superior ways to travel. Hell, even _Flooing_ was more dignified. But until she had her Apparition license, she'd just have to deal with it.

Now wizards, on the other hand…they were a _completely_ different matter. They could arc, dive, and flip as much as they wanted and not only was it perfectly acceptable within Pure-blood society, it was considered to be…sexy. Very sexy. Especially if the right wizard was on said broom. Say, a certain Pure-blood with perfect blonde hair, brooding demeanor, and steel grey eyes.

Pansy looked up and scanned the cloudless sky above the Quidditch Pitch. She spotted the wizard in question, his green cape wild behind him as he rolled into another absurd dive to retrieve the snitch. Gods, Draco Malfoy was nearly as fun to watch during practice as he was during a game. During practice, however, it was easier for her to spot him. And easier for him to spot her.

At least she hoped.

Pansy fiddled with her green and silver scarf, drawing it tighter around her. The evening had gotten chilly. Quidditch practice was nearly over, so it was time for her to make her way back to the castle. Before he landed. Before etiquette required that he talk to her. And before propriety required that she respond.

She could never get a coherent word out when he was nearby, anyway.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

"Hey Pans." Daphne said as she sat down across from her at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. "Just saw Draco," she said, reaching for the pumpkin juice.

"Where?"

"Outside the Potions classroom. Standing a little too close to the Weasel's sister." Daphne drained her glass. Pansy cast a glance at the Gryffindor table to see if the girl was there. She wasn't.

Ginny Weasley. She had everything Pansy didn't: athletic prowess, easy camaraderie with guys, self-confidence. Where Pansy could be pretty with makeup on, Ginny was flawless without. Where Ginny was popular even outside her house, Pansy had few close friends. Where Ginny exuded self-confidence, Pansy came across as pinch-nosed and bitchy.

"But she's not in Potions with us. What was she doing down there?"

"Who knows?" Daphne set her glass down to refill it. "I just wanted to make sure you knew. You have to make a move soon, Pans. You can't lose a morsel like him to that slut."

The morsel in question chose that moment to saunter into the Great Hall.

Pansy lowered her voice to a whisper. "He'd never. I mean, she's a Gryff. He'd never stoop so low."

"Yeah, except guys seem to dig her. She's never without a snog-mate."

"Hello, ladies," Draco drawled, settling down next to Pansy. She froze. Her tongue had somehow gotten stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"Hey, Draco," Daphne said. Her eyes flicked to Pansy. "Pans and I were just talking about going to Hogsmeade next weekend." Pansy tried to catch Daphne's eye as he reached for the rolls, shaking her head and mouthing the word _NO._ What in the name of Salazar was she doing?

"Want to hang with us? Maybe walk over together Saturday morning?" Daphne asked.

"Interesting proposition, ladies. I just might be able to do that." Draco looked up from his plate and winked at Pansy. She felt her face flush. _Shite_.

She was going to fucking _kill_ Daphne.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

The next evening, Pansy was back at the Quidditch pitch watching Slytherin prepare for the upcoming game against Ravenclaw. Draco darted around, oblivious to her presence. Daphne saddled up beside her, rubbing her hands together and casting a warming charm over her boots.

"Pans, you gotta talk to him. Before Saturday."

"I'll try." Pansy bit her lip as Draco looped around the stands. She turned to her best friend. "Thanks for sitting with me."

"You got it," Daphne responded, settling into her studies and ignoring the acrobatics above her.

As a hint of the coming twilight stained the sky, the teammates began to peel off one by one to return to the castle. Pansy began gathering their books; she glanced up to find the slender form of Ginny Weasley making her way onto the pitch.

"What's _she_ doing here?" Pansy whispered.

"Hell if I know," Daphne answered, rooting around in her rucksack.

Apparently, the girls weren't the only ones who noticed Ginny.

"Hey, Red," Draco called, bringing his broom around and hovering close enough to the stands for Pansy to hear. "Taking me up on my challenge, then?"

"You know it. Sure you're ready, Blondie?"

Draco just smiled. "Bring it."

Ginny vaulted onto her broom and leapt into the air; Draco followed furiously, his smile only widening. Pansy lost them almost immediately in the deepening blue vault of sky.

"Pans, it's cold. We should go."

"I'd like to stay."

"You don't need to watch this."

"Yes, I do."

Daphne set her jaw, lit her wand, and reopened her Potions book. Daphne could be difficult, but she was too good of a friend to leave Pansy there by herself. After another twenty minutes of dizzying flying, Draco and Ginny landed.

"Tomorrow?" Draco asked, stepping off his broom.

"Monday. I've got an essay for Flitwick."

"Monday, then."

"Ladies," Draco said as he unhooked his cape, nodding to the Slytherin girls still in the stands.

Daphne smiled back. "Draco."

He turned towards the castle. Ginny stood there, making a show of watching Draco's arse as he slowly walked away.

"Good looking housemate ya got there. Maybe I'll have to see what else he's good at catching besides a snitch. Maybe I'll let him catch me." And with a wink, Ginny turned and sauntered toward the castle.

"She didn't just do that!" Pansy said.

"Yeah, she sure did."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

"Hey, Pansy." Somehow Draco had appeared next to Pansy in the chaos between classes, and she hadn't even noticed. "Are you and Daphne still up for Hogsmeade next Saturday? I believe Theo and Blaise are planning on coming, too."

She forced her tongue to move. "Eh…sounds…eh…great. When…I mean…what time—"

She noticed Draco's eyes focus over her shoulder, down the corridor.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" he said, cutting across her. "Red!" he called, running down the hall and bending down to whisper something in the slut's ear. He pulled back and they both laughed. He jogged back to Pansy.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "What were you saying, Pansy?"

She swallowed. "Nothing important."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

After seeing Draco with the slut—twice now in two days—Pansy decided to avoid the Slytherin common room for a while. The last thing she needed to hear was Draco expounding on the slut's… _athletic prowess._ Or, Salazar help her, another one of her _talents_.

Pansy made her way to the library, found a table in the farthest section from the door, and put her head down, giving into the tears that had threatened all day. _Draco's never going to want me. He never has and he never will._

A few minutes later, she looked up at the sound of rustling robes. A flustered Harry Potter stood at the table, peering down at her. "Do you mind if I sit…? All the other tables are crowded with Fifth Years studying for O.W.L.s."

"Go ahead."

She turned away, rubbing off the dried tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter. It's just some guy." She hadn't meant for her words to sound so bitter.

"I bet I know who," Potter said, reaching into his rucksack. "Guys can be pricks."

"I suppose."

"Trust me, they can." He pulled out a parchment to read and smiled. "I know. I am one."

"A guy or a prick?" Pansy asked with her own soft smile.

He laughed. "Both."

"You know, he's not really a prick." She sighed, not exactly sure why she was talking to Harry Potter about Draco. "He's just not interested."

"Ah. So he's not just any prick. He's a blind prick."

She laughed at the compliment. "Right."

"Right." He locked his green eyes on hers. "I'm sorry about your prick," he said. "His loss."

"It's okay. There are other pricks out there," Pansy quipped, suddenly feeling a lot better than she had before Potter— _Harry—_ arrived. "One of them might even like me back."

"Yeah," he said. "I could see that."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

The next morning, Pansy made an extra effort to look nice—a bit of mascara, a touch of lip gloss—and made her way to the Great Hall. As Daphne chatted away about what she was going to wear to Astoria's birthday party, Pansy peeked over her head to the long table farthest away. Potter— _Harry,_ she reminded herself—was deep in conversation with Granger and the Weasel.

That afternoon, Pansy loitered in the hall outside Potions. Where was Harry? Granger and Weasel had already passed her to enter the classroom, looking grim. If she didn't go in soon, she'd get detention from Snape, Head of House or not.

She could hear someone was sprinting down the now-empty hall toward her. She swung around to see Harry desperately trying to get to the classroom, his rucksack thumping his back, his robes flying in a wide arc.

"Hey," she said softly, as not to spook him as he nearly slid into her just outside the classroom.

"Hey," he answered breathlessly, and reached out to hold the door open for her.

She smiled at him. Not bad for someone who was raised by Muggles.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Two days later, she happened to notice Harry by himself, leaning against the grey stone of the hall outside Charms.

"Hey," Pansy said, tilting her chin up a fraction. "I saw that you missed some of Transfiguration the other day. Want to borrow my notes?"

"Eh…"

"I know I'm not the best in Transfiguration, but I'm decent. I realize you can probably have Granger's notes any time you want, but I thought you might enjoy another perspective." She forced a chuckle and found that it didn't sound false at all. "I know if the only notes I could borrow were ones from the most brilliant person in class, I might feel a bit…intimidated, if you know what I mean."

He paused momentarily, considering. "Actually, I do."

Pansy opened her book bag and pulled out the parchment. "Here." She handed it to him. "Can I get them back by Tuesday?"

"Eh…sure. How about I meet you in the library tomorrow afternoon? Before Quidditch practice?"

"Sure. Maybe around 2?"

"Okay. You know that table way in the back…" He hesitated, as if he were unsure whether he was supposed to say _the one we sat at last time?_

"The one by the Divination section?"

Harry smiled in relief. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Okay," she said, timidly smiling back.

"Okay." He started to walk away, then suddenly pivoted around to her again. He was still smiling. "Thanks."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

The next afternoon, Pansy waited for Harry, textbooks open in a wide arc around her on the library table. She sighed again, swinging her leg in frustration, unable to concentrate. He was late. The fucker probably had never intended to return her notes. Now she going to have to borrow someone else's notes to replace hers, dammit.

She looked up at the sound of someone jogging through the stacks.

"Hey," Harry said, a bit breathless. He plopped down next to her and opened his rucksack. "Sorry I'm late. Here are your notes back."

The-Boy-Who-Lived was apologizing? Pansy didn't quite know how to respond.

"Did you get a chance to look at them?" It was all she could think of to say.

"Actually, they were really quite helpful," he said. She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or insulted that Harry Potter seemed surprised her class notes were useful.

"Really? I mean, great."

"Brilliant." He hesitated. "Listen. You want to get out of here? Ron's nowhere to be found—probably snogging Lavender senseless again—and Hermione's been swallowed up by another one of her… _causes_ …" His face twisted as if he found this distasteful. _So, he can hang out with me if his best mates are otherwise occupied? Fuck being third string. No thanks._

"I—" she began, gathering up her textbooks, parchment, and quill to leave.

He cut across her. "I could really use some company, to be honest."

Pansy cocked an eyebrow. _To be honest?_ Did Gryffindors toss around phrases like that just to be ironic? She hadn't spent enough time with him to suss out whether he was teasing her or not.

"If you're busy, it's no problem. I'll—"

She stood up. "No. I mean, sure. I hate sitting in the library. Pince scares the hell out of me, _to be honest_."

He huffed a laugh, catching on to her echoing tease. "Me, too. It's pretty nice out. Walk outside?"

"Sure." She followed him out through the main corridor and down the steps.

"Towards the lake?" he asked.

"Okay."

They walked along in silence.

When they reached the lake, he said, "This is weird, right? I mean, you and me, walking outside…"

"Yeah. I guess so," she said, pointedly not looking at him.

"Is it too weird?"

Pansy smiled, keeping her eyes on the curved grey stone path in front of them. "No. Not too weird at all."

"Well, if it's not too weird, maybe we could meet tomorrow, over there on that bench? Maybe go over those notes you lent me?"

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

By 2:15 p.m. the next day, Pansy was beginning to think Harry wasn't going to show. Just as she had decided to head back to the castle, she saw him. Pansy watched, amused, as Harry jogged across the green towards to where she'd been waiting. Apparently, The-Boy-Who-Lived was always late.

"Hey. Shall we?" he said, indicating the path they took last time they met.

They settled into an amicable pace. She idly wondered what Granger would say if she knew he was here.

"Do you want to go over the Transfiguration notes?" he asked into the air between them.

"Not really," she said with a small laugh.

"Me, either." He smiled at her. "Do you follow Quidditch, Pansy?"

"A bit. I'm not much for the professional stuff. But I know the game and I like watching Dr—" She caught herself before saying his name. "I like watching Slytherin fly."

She was certain he had noticed, but he didn't call her out on it. Apparently good graces were not reserved for Pure-bloods.

"Do you like to? Fly, that is?" Harry asked, redirecting the conversation slightly.

"Eh…I'm not sure. I'm not supposed to like flying."

"How so?"

"Pure-blood witch. Not respectable and all that."

"Oh."

"You were raised by Muggles, right?"

"Eh…yeah."

"Probably why you didn't know that."

"Probably."

"It's ridiculous, all of it. I mean, there are volumes and volumes on etiquette that you have to memorize before you even get to Hogwarts. And more during summer hols. You're lucky you never had to suffer it. Probably an advantage of having been raised by Muggles."

"I don't feel particularly lucky. And I wouldn't exactly say being raised by Muggles has advantages," he said levelly. _What made me say that? Losing your parents wouldn't be considered lucky_. He didn't seem bothered by what she'd said, though; actually, he seemed relieved that she hadn't expressed pity that he'd been orphaned.

"I suppose that's true." Gods, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. It was refreshing, actually. "Harry. Why did you ask me to walk with you?"

"Honestly?"

She laughed. "Honestly."

"I thought you were nice." He paused. "Is it alright to tell a Slytherin that they're nice?" he joked.

"Depends on the Slytherin," she shot back with a smirk.

"Are you that Slytherin?"

Harry Potter was not flirting with her. Certainly not. She felt herself flush. Or was he?

"I suppose you could always try it and see what happens."

He took the bait. "You're nice."

"See? Nothing bad happened. So I must be the right Slytherin."

"You must be."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Saturday morning, Pansy had begged off the Hogsmeade trip, blaming an upcoming essay due Monday for McGonagall. She had no desire to fight for Draco's attention all day long. It was simply too tiring.

"What about Draco?" Daphne huffed when Pansy had told her she wasn't going.

"He won't even notice I'm not there!"

Daphne sighed, shook her head, and walked out of the common room without another word.

Pansy packed up her books and made her way to the table in the library's Divination section. Her favourite seat was already taken.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" a familiar voice countered from behind piles of parchment.

"I do go to school here, you know."

Harry huffed a laugh. "Yeah, me, too." He appraised her for a second. "How come you're not in Hogsmeade?"

"I just didn't feel like going," she said, sitting down across from him.

"You know, I get that." He paused. "Do you really need to study?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I should, but I don't want to."

"If you're willing to leave," he said as he gathered his notes into his rucksack, "I'd like to show you something."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

"Okay. So the first thing you want to do is grip the broom firmly."

"I'm not sure about this. I mean, you were in Hooch's class with me. You've seen me fly. I'm just not good at this."

"You just need a pointer or two, that's all."

"I don't enjoy it, Pot— _Harry_. Not like you do."

"Is it that you don't enjoy it or that you're not supposed to enjoy it?" He stared at her for a second, his green eyes sparkling. "Tell you what. I'll take you up with me so I can show you how fun it really is."

"I don't know…"

"I promise I won't do anything completely mad."

"You mean like taking a terrified Slytherin girl up on your broom with you?"

He laughed. "Except for that."

He got on his broom. Pansy threw her leg across it and settled in behind him.

"Hold on," he said with a devious smile over his shoulder and they vaulted into the sky. She squeezed her eyes shut and held on to Harry. Tightly.

Only when she felt him slow down did she dare open her eyes. They hovered over the pitch, a little too high for her tastes, but from where they were, she could see the late afternoon sun reflect off the lake.

"Wow," she said. "Beautiful."

"Beautiful," Harry echoed. But when she glanced at him, he wasn't looking at the lake at all.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

The sun was unusually warm the next day, luring Pansy to the stone bench in the courtyard near the student greenhouses. She closed her eyes and angled her face skyward. The sound of the Second Years leaving the atrium convinced her it was time to gather her belongings and make her way to Transfiguration.

Pansy opened her eyes to discover Granger on her way across the green towards her, thin-lipped and purposeful, curly hair bouncing with every stride. "Harry asked me to give this to you," she said, stuffing a bit of wrinkled parchment into Pansy's hand. She turned on her heel and stomped back to the walkway to Herbology without another word.

Pansy unfolded it.

 _8 pm on the steps_

She couldn't help but smile.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Pansy found her way to the steps by the Great Hall that evening without bumping into Filch, or, miraculously, Peeves. She looked around; Harry was nowhere.

"Pans…"

She jumped. _The bastard's disillusioned._ He grabbed her, hauling her underneath a cloak.

"You could have warned me you had an invisibility cloak."

"And spoil my fun?" he said with a sly grin. "No way."

It was dark by the time they settled near a tree on the far side of the lake. Pansy cast warming spells; Harry conjured a blanket. He sat down next to her on the throw. Right next to her.

Harry put his arm around her. Pansy leaned her head on his chest and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of him. It reminded her of apples, broom polish, and something that was uniquely _Harry_.

Touching his fingertips to her chin, he guided it towards him; she closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her lips, gently, tentatively. She responded by putting her hand in his hair and drawing him in. She parted her lips and his tongue met hers, pressing, probing, deepening the kiss; he turned slightly and her nose bumped his glasses. He flung them off over his head. They landed somewhere across the blanket behind him.

She giggled.

They laid back, her head on his chest as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

After more than an hour of snuggling together under his invisibility cloak, they walked slowly back to the castle, fingers entwined.

When they reached the Slytherin dorm, Harry whispered, "I'll see you tomorrow." Then, for one blissful moment, his lips were on hers, his hands were in her hair, and she'd forgotten how to breathe.

Pansy floated into the common room. All in all, The-Boy-Who-Lived was not a bad kisser.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

By December, Pansy and Harry had decided they could no longer meet every afternoon by their tree near the lake. Most days, it was simply too cold.

Today, she managed to bump into Harry in the jostle of the hallway before Potions. He pressed a note into her hand and proceeded to ignore her.

 _3:30 broom closet near Charms_

He was already there when she arrived, looking up as she entered and smiling like an idiot. He cast a _Colloportus_ and a _Muffliato_. "You're late," Harry said.

"That's my line. You must be rubbing off on me."

"I missed you today," he said, leaning down to kiss her. Within a breath, he had unbuttoned her shirt and slid it down her arms; he felt around her back to her bra clasp. "How the hell do you…?"

"Like this," she said, reaching around and unhooking it with one hand.

Harry pulled her bra off, tossing it across the closet with a smirk. He bent to take a nipple in his mouth. Pansy sighed, closed her eyes, and let the feel of Harry's tongue block out all conscious thought.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Pansy sighed happily and pushed the sleeves of Harry's jumper up once again. She _loved_ wearing something of his. It was nice to be outside for once instead of surrounded by Filch's mops and buckets in a stuffy broom closet. The weather was perfect for early March: warm enough to be comfortable yet chilly enough to guarantee they would be the only ones on the path by the lake.

"I want to tell Daphne about us," Pansy said, her breath visible in the wan afternoon light.

"You know we can't tell anyone."

"Why not? She's my best friend. She won't say anything." She paused. "I want us to have what everyone else has. You're supposed to hold hands with me in the halls and take me to Madam Puddifoot's on Valentine's Day." She looked him straight in the eye. "Are you embarrassed of me?"

"You know I'm not embarrassed of you."

"You haven't told any of your friends about us."

"Hermione's figured it out, I'm sure. But we can't tell anyone else. It would put you in danger. You know this, Pans." He stopped walking and turned to her, taking both her hands in his. "After Voldemort is defeated, we can tell everyone."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He kissed her gently. "It won't be long until everything is different. I can feel it. Trust me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone about us. I couldn't live with myself if he hurt you. Promise me."

"Okay, I promise." Pansy snuggled into his chest and breathed him in. "You're mine, Harry Potter," she said.

"And you're mine, Pansy Parkinson." He brought her right hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I'm never letting you go."

 _She was his._ It was as close as he'd ever gotten to assuring her that they had a future.

He even let her keep his jumper when they got back to the castle.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Pansy still had the day's crumpled parchment tucked in her hand when she arrived at the broom closet. Even though the mid-spring weather was now consistently warm enough for _adventures_ with Harry by the lake, they had decided to meet in closet by Charms each day. Pansy was glad of it. Disillusion charms and invisibility cloaks were fine for snogging. Once enough clothing was removed, it was far better to have a door.

Harry had greeted her with a hug and a soft kiss, laced his fingers in hers, and pulled her towards the chair he had conjured for them to sit on.

"We can't keep this up," she said, hoping he would argue. He did.

"Bullshite. We can do whatever the hell we want."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Granger barely even _looked_ at me when she delivered your note. Imagine what she would say if you actually told her that we're together! Imagine what my housemates would say!"

"I don't care." Harry brushed her hair away from her face. "I…like you. A lot."

"You _like_ me? Is that all I'm gonna get?" she teased.

He stared at her, smirking, not saying a word.

"Oh, I can give you much more than that, Pans," he finally whispered, pulling her closer and biting her neck.

She giggled. "Are you trying to seduce me, Harry Potter?"

"Trying? I think I already have." He continued to nibble down her neck, pausing for a moment at her shoulder.

"It's never going to work. You know it can't work," she said softly as she angled her neck upward, encouraging him upward again.

He changed tactics on her. "But don't you want to try?" he asked around a bite.

She'd come to recognize the stubborn tone in Harry's voice. She'd heard it before Quidditch matches...whenever he sparred with Draco in the halls...as he answered questions in Potions. Harry wasn't letting this go. He wasn't letting _her_ go.

He abandoned her neck to kiss her deeply, parting her lips with his own and teasing her with his tongue.

"I love kissing you," he murmured.

And suddenly her knees buckled, and she couldn't remember a single reason why it couldn't work out between them.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

 _He was sitting across from her at a table for two in the center of a proper Muggle restaurant. It was nearly full with diners. White-gloved wait staff moved silently across the room, attending the tables with little or no comment. Harry smiled at her from behind his round glasses and rose from his seat, coming around to her and then descending to one knee. He took her hand. The entire restaurant turned to watch. "Pansy Parkinson, will you marry me?" Harry asked softly. She bent to kiss him and—_

"Miss Parkinson?"

She cringed. "My apologies, Professor Snape. Would you please repeat the question?"

Snape raised an imperious eyebrow. He was clearly debating whether he would deduct house points or assign her detention. Instead, he surprised her.

"Why must one crush lacewing for this particular potion, rather than introducing it whole?"

 _That was close._ She needed to stop daydreaming. Sweet Salazar, what would she have done if she couldn't meet Harry tonight?

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Pansy had barely gotten the _Colloportus_ and _Muffliato_ off when Harry had pulled her to the far wall, pressing her deliciously between the bits of cleaning supplies she had never bothered to catalogue. His left hand pinned both her arms up over her head, while his right hand ran up and down her torso, his splayed fingers pushing hard into the skin of her belly under her shirt.

Harry stepped back, pulling his shirt over his head and cocking an eyebrow, indicating he wanted her to remove hers. She obliged.

He moved towards her, pressing his warm chest into hers. She pushed him away to unbutton her shirt; she unfastened her skirt, too, allowing it to drop on the floor and stepping out of it. Wildly brazen in just her knickers and bra, she twisted, switching places with him. Suddenly Harry was against the wall, shirtless, his eyes wide as he watched her.

She reached down and unzipped his trousers, letting them fall to his ankles in a heap. His desire was obvious; she palmed it through his underwear. He groaned and threw his head back, hitting it against the wall behind him with a dull thud. She stifled a giggle and got down on her knees.

Hooking her finger in his underwear, she dragged it down and palmed him again, pushing into his hardness roughly then caressing the tip with her finger. Pansy looked up; Harry was staring at her again. She flicked her tongue out and began to lick the length of it, up and down, repeatedly, until he had squeezed his eyes shut.

She had never tasted a man before. She let her tongue play with the tip, surprised by the musky quality in the drop of salty wetness. Slowly, she wrapped her lips around him and took him in her mouth. Harry hitched his breath.

She moved, pulling him in and out until she felt him fist her hair. Pansy froze.

" _Fuck!_ " he grunted raggedly.

She felt the hot pulse at the back of her throat and stilled herself until Harry was done.

Pansy didn't even realize that they'd said almost nothing to each other until she was staggering back to her dorm with her shirt on inside out and the taste of him still on her lips.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

As she waited for Daphne to arrive for breakfast the next morning, she scribbled on the side of her notebook.

 _Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter…Mrs. Harry Potter…Mrs. Pansy Potter…_

Actually, _Pansy Potter_ had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

Pansy looked up as the post owls flew in the open windows of the Great Hall. A brown owl—which looked like it might be a Hogwarts school owl—dropped a rolled up parchment in front of her and flew away without waiting for a bite of food. She opened the note.

 _can't wait to see you tonight_

She smiled, tucked the parchment in her robes, and poured herself another pumpkin juice.

Daphne sat down across from her and shot her a look. Pansy closed her notebook with a snap.

"Where have you been?" Daphne asked, her eyes both concerned and a bit angry. _Giving Harry blow jobs in the broom closet near the Charms classroom. Why do you ask?_

"What do you mean, where have I been? I'm the one that's been waiting for you to get here."

"You know what I mean."

"I was studying."

Daphne rolled her eyes but didn't press her. "Well, if you ever want to tell me _what_ you're studying, or maybe _who_ , I'd love to know."

"Okay."

The girls went about eating their dinner in silence. Pansy could feel Harry's eyes on her back, begging her to turn around. After a long moment, Daphne looked up from her plate. "Don't you trust me, Pans?"

"I do. Trust _me_ when I tell you that you don't want to know."

"Promise me something," Daphne said after a minute, locking her eyes on Pansy's.

"Sure."

"Promise that if you ever need to talk to me about it, that you will."

"Okay." She smiled at her best friend. "Thanks."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

April 1997

"Come on, Pans. _Please_."

"Harry, I—" Her words evaporated on her tongue in the dim light of the broom closet. For once, she had no idea what to say to him.

She was willing. Sweet Salazar, she was _so_ willing. Couldn't he say he loved her, just one time before she gave herself to him?

"Pans…please…" he begged again, his breath hot on her neck. " _Please_. Just this once. We've been together for months. God, I want to fuck you so bad…it'd be so good...you know it'd be so good..."

He bit her neck, his hands descending to her bra and unhooking it with a quick flick of his fingers. He was breathing hard; even in this light, she could see his face was flushed. He stopped nipping her and pinned her with a pleading look.

"Don't you want to?"

 _Of course_ she did. She'd wanted to ever since he first kissed her on the blanket, ever since their first meeting in the broom closet. Her ache for him was a distraction, an ever present bow strung tight across her flesh. Their daily snog-fests only deepened her frustration and fed her imagination: wet, sticky desire pooled in her knickers whenever she pictured them together in the broom closet doing it, which was far too often for her to admit.

Harry didn't wait for her reply. His lips were crashing into hers again, urgent and demanding. His hand was fisting her hair at the back of her head, dragging her into kiss after breathless kiss. She felt him snake a finger under waistband to tug at her knickers.

A moan sounding like her name escaped his throat.

She could feel her resolve cracking, evaporating at the heat of his touch. She wanted his hands pressed into her skin and his mouth on her nipples. What would it be like to have him inside her? Would it satisfy the ache she lived with every day when she saw him in the halls, but couldn't talk to him? Couldn't touch him?

She straddled him on the makeshift chair he had conjured from a cleaning bucket, feeling the press of his desire against her own. Sweet Salazar, he felt so good. He tasted so good. He smelled…so good.

She shifted off Harry's lap and stood. She drew him up next to her and reached for the placket of his trousers; she released the hook and freed the zipper, sending his clothing to the broom closet floor. She pushed him back down on the chair, perhaps a bit too roughly.

He smirked at her.

She sat down on his lap facing him, pressing her breasts into his chest, rolling her hips. Her knickers, wet with desire, were still between them.

"I want you to be my first," Harry groaned. "God, Pansy… _please_."

She felt him slid his fingers inside her as she straddled him, and she let out a moan as he moved them inside her.

 _Fuck it._

Standing and yanking off her last bit of clothing, Pansy smiled and settled back down on his lap, lining him up so that he slid partially inside her. Harry gasped. She descended slowly, her eyes locked on his, crying out as the length of him entered her fully.

She began to move, up and down and again, and within a moment he grunted and grabbed her hipbones hard, stopping her motion and closing his eyes.

When he opened them, Pansy smiled at him, and he kissed her gently, panting.

"I love you," she murmured around the kiss.

She couldn't be sure, but she might have felt him freeze for just a second.

"Yeah," he said, still breathing hard. "Me, too."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

"Daph, I need to tell you something."

They were in the Slytherin common room, alone for the moment. Daphne looked up from her Defense notes, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Is everything okay?" Daphne asked.

"I…I…" She swallowed. "I…" _I'm_ what _, exactly?_ What should she tell her best friend? _I'm shagging a Gryff every chance I get? You know, the one that happens to be rather…famous? And, even though you're my best friend, I'd rather be shagging him than sitting here with you or doing just about anything else I can think of._

Daphne made it easy for her. "You're hanging out with someone."

Pansy swallowed. "Yeah, there's someone. He's not a Slytherin, though. Don't hate me, okay?"

Her best friend was smart enough not to mention Draco. "I just want you to be happy, Pans. You know how much I love you."

She gifted her a small smile. "Thanks, Daph."

Daphne returned to the homework she had on her lap.

"Hey, did you hear?" she asked a couple minutes later, not looking up from her notes, her quill in hand. "Mister Chosen One got caught with the slut after the Quidditch game." Daphne chuckled as Pansy felt all the blood drain from her face. "Serves him right. He thinks he can do anything he bloody well pleases."

Daphne looked up from her Defense textbook. "Pans, are you alright? You look a little pale."

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Pansy stuffed the parchment Granger delivered into the pocket of her robes, unable to muster the courage to open the note. Even though she had nearly convinced herself that Daphne's news was just an ugly rumor, she'd given herself until after lunch to read it. She couldn't delay any longer.

She unrolled it with shaking hands.

 _P. Need to see you today. -H_

 _Well, I guess he'll explain everything once I get there. I'm sure nothing happened between him and the slut. He loves me. I know he does._

When Pansy arrived at the broom closet, Harry was already there. When she saw him, every worry vanished.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

"I missed you," Pansy whispered.

He hesitated. "I need to tell you something," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I was with Ginny last night."

"With Ginny? What...what does that mean?"

She heard herself speaking; the words echoed in the tiny space like they were coming from someone else. Harry turned away from her but didn't respond.

"It's true, then. The rumor." Pansy was surprised her voice was steady.

"She wants me back. I promised her that if she ever wanted me back…"

"You _promised_?" she managed. "Are you breaking up with me? For her? Because you _promised_?"

"Yeah." He was looking at his trainers.

"Please, Harry. Please don't." Begging wasn't going to change his mind, but she couldn't stop herself. " _Please_. I thought things were going so well between us. You can't…you can't break up with me. I love you."

His brow furrowed. "What do you want me to say? Look, Ginny and I talked and I don't want to…with you…anymore…"

"But you…but we…"

"We _what_?" he demanded, his voice rising a notch.

"I let you…I thought—"

"You thought _what_ , Pans? If you let me in your knickers, I'd pledge my undying love to you? Honestly, you're not that good of a fuck."

The tears came then.

"How would you know that if I was your first?"

He smirked at her.

"Why?" she managed through her tears.

Harry hesitated for a second. "Because I'm a guy. And a prick. Remember?"

He turned and left without another word, the door shutting with a soft click behind him.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

After their last rendezvous in the Salazar-forsaken broom closet, Harry never spoke to her again. He slipped in nearly-late for Potions and was the first to leave. He kept his back to her in the Great Hall during meals. He disappeared from the Divination section of the library.

She spent the next month of her life curled in a ball, fighting to stay focused on school, convincing herself to eat and not to cry. She wasn't always successful.

As her best friend, Daphne never asked who had hurt her and Pansy never volunteered it. Instead, Daphne became rather good at spells to heal red, puffy eyes. Pansy cast _Muffliatos_ around her four poster when she needed to weep.

And she tried not to think about why she had had so much practice with them.

Then Harry had left school entirely, never showing for seventh year.

She was glad, in a way. Glad she didn't have to look at him anymore.

-o0o0o0o0o0o-

Nearly a year had passed before Pansy saw him again.

When Harry appeared in the Great Hall before the Battle of Hogwarts, a part of her sensed he was there even before he revealed himself.

As he emerged from the pack of Gryffindors, he scanned the crowd. Pansy caught his eye; he acted as if she were a stranger, not acknowledging that he even remembered her.

The time away from Hogwarts had changed him. He was more chiseled and more handsome than she remembered. Tanned. Taller. Stronger. It hit her in the gut; it made her ache. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kiss him.

Both thoughts made her sick.

As his gaze passed over her, the wound he left ripped open again, leaving her as raw and angry as she was the day he left, closing the broom closet door on her that last time.

Her words tore from her throat without thought for consequence; all she wanted was someone, anyone, to take him away so she wouldn't have to lay eyes on him ever again.

" _What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!"_

It wasn't until many years later that Pansy realized she had kept her promise. Just like Harry had.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Open**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	23. Punishing the Wicked (Number 22)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Punishing the Wicked** **(Number 22)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre:**

 **Pairing:** **Bellatrix / Fenrir**

 **Trigger Warnings: Dubcon, Language, Violence**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Punishing the Wicked**

* * *

"I'm sorry, my lord. I did not mean to displease." Supplication and lies—each and every word. She looked demure enough, a slight bow to the head and chin.

"I tire of your games Bella. It is time you are punished for your misbehavior." His tongue lingered on the "s" in the last word, drawing out the syllable before dropping his tone dramatically low. "Greyback."

"Yes." The werewolf did not move.

"Bella is yours for the evening." A deep, satisfied moan rumbled through the man across the room.

"My lord, I—" Bellatrix stepped forward, toward Voldemort. He slapped her, halting anything she'd been about to do.

"No; this time you have gone too far."

"But, my lord. Surely _you_ can punish me. I would gladly be under your wand." Eyes wide, she held her hands together, fidgeting just a little more than usual.

"I tire of this." He turned to walk away and she reached out for him.

"Crucio!" Her back bent at an awkward angle. Gurgling came from her pretty, pouty lips. For once, Bella struggled to maintain composure instead of letting caution to the wind. She grasped tightly to her robe. It draped toward the floor, but she pulled it to her body, clutching as it whirled in mid-air. As the intensity of the spell increased, each spasm of her back shook a bit of her loose. Her legs could not stay still. Arms were flailing a bit, as the pain began to hone in on her head. In one, desperate move, she dug her nails into the sides of her scalp and drug them downward, loosing a shrill cry. He released her, letting her slump to the floor in a heap of black indignity.

"Perhaps you deserve to be with the dog more than I thought if you're going to act like one." Fenrir's lip curled up and he considered pulling the wand from his pocket, wisely deciding otherwise.

"My lord, he is a _werewolf_. You know what he does to those… things he plays with. You cannot—" Voldemort's wand didn't move; his lips didn't utter a single syllable. Bellatrix was pushed to her knees, head cowed and hands on the floor.

"Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do, Bell-a-trix." He drug out her name as if it tasted foreign on his tongue. She looked up to see Fenrir palming himself through his trousers. She sneered in disgust and inched her fingers toward her wand. Once it was securely in the palm of her hand, she lifted it and took a deep breath.

"Diffindo!"

"Protego." The word was calm, but the shield was up before Bellatrix's spell came close to hitting Greyback. "Expelliarmus." Bella gaped as her wand flew into Voldemort's hand. "You will not be needing this tonight." A sharp intake of breath was all he needed to hear before he continued, hand held up to stop her. Her confused stare went back and forth between the two. "Greyback. She stays breathing. No permanent maiming. Nothing that can't be healed." The werewolf's smirk shifted; he seemed a bit disappointed at this, but nodded.

Voldemort's robe swept the floor around him as he turned from all eyes left in the room. Bellatrix attempted to launch herself at him, but was stopped mid-motion by a strong pair of arms and the unpleasant sensation of dread. She did not get to see the worried looks some of the death eaters shared, nor the secret smiles the rest could not hide. Bellatrix was not everyone's favorite, after all.

Fenrir hefted Bella's weight over his shoulder, her kicking legs kneeing him in the ribs. He grunted, attempting to hold her still. She slumped a bit when he slapped her arse with an open palm hard enough for her to yelp. "Stop, it, wench." She huffed and retaliated with nails digging down his spine. He laughed.

The walk down to the dungeons was one the werewolf knew well. Staircases grew narrow and the lights dimmed a bit. Candles were the only source of light here and they were sparse. Each flickered as the pair stalked past. He steered them toward the last cell; it was in a shadowed corner of the chamber with the distinct smell of mildew coming from the walls. The cell door was open, but it was not inviting.

Bellatrix was tossed casually to the floor. She crouched in the corner, hissing and holding onto the nearest bar for balance. Her head cocked to the side when the door slammed shut. Fenrir grinned, a lopsided snarl of sorts. As he stalked forward, she moved around him, staying hunched low to the ground and ready to strike. When thick hands reached out to grab her, the feral woman squalled and clawed at his face until she was free again.

"You bitch!"

There was no more playing around. His wand was now in his hand. Fingers gripped the shaft and released. A stinging hex flew toward her and she dodged, rolling and barely getting out of the way. Another followed, a volley coming at her. When one landed across her thigh, she dropped to her knees with a soft grunt. That was when he lunged.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist and she began thrashing. He squeezed tighter, feeling the soft buckle of her ribs before he released—but not enough for her to get away. One hand went up to her wild mane of black curls, gripping hard enough to wrench her head back. That small movement pulled her back against him. She felt his thick length through the trousers between them and groaned, though in what manner it was hard to tell.

Harsh breathing accompanied the shiver she could not stop as a tongue bathed the side of her neck, working its way up to just below her ear. Just when she thought he was done, he crowded her down toward the floor, bit harshly into the flesh he'd tasted, and ground roughly against her arse. She wailed and splayed her hands out to keep her face from taking the full brunt of her fall. Just a bit of scuffing to the chin, but nothing broken—yet. When she thought that Fenrir was slowing, backing away, he loosened his teeth and lapped at the indentations there. A savage growl fell from between clenched jaws, then, as he grabbed the back of her robe and hefted it up.

Now exposed, he saw the alabaster of her flesh as yet unmarked. The only obstruction were the soft, clean lines of her knickers. Still holding a bouquet of her hair, he used the leverage to shove her face into the floor. Behind her, his other hand trailed back, one thumb hooking under the edge of the fabric. He licked his lips. Just then, she attempted to roll to the side. Unfortunately, her legs tangled in the fabric of her robe and his hold on her hair prevented her from moving away from him. She had, however, managed to move about a foot forward. He hooked an arm beneath her thigh, flipped her over, and drug her back toward him. This time, he was neither gentle, nor slow.

As Bellatrix's body met his, Fenrir hastily shoved the robe out of the way, tearing at her knickers. They ripped and fell to the floor. Bellatrix scrambled, her fingers starting to bruise and several long nails breaking against the stone. She, too, demonstrated a penchant for growling as the werewolf fumbled with his trousers, pulled his cock out, and sheathed himself in her with one harsh, awkward thrust. She gasped as he nearly missed her entrance, wincing as he slid deep into her. His eager withdrawal gave her just a breath's time to brace before he slammed home again. She tried to stagger forward, away from the brutal force, but his hold on her never wavered. Instead, she fell to the floor and tried to twist away again. Fenrir let her this time, catching her when she'd rolled onto her back and was attempting to scoot back.

In this position, she could see the wicked gleam in his eyes. Even in the dim light, she could see his haggard clothing in a disarray around him and his cock jutting out, red and angry toward her. He snarled, pouncing, almost, so that he landed on top of her. She tried to ignore the faint smell of wet dog, but when his teeth once again aimed for her throat, she reached around him and tried to grip one shoulder for some leverage. Fenrir lowered himself further, grabbing her free hand and pinning it to the floor, angling back and gripping the other so hard that she actually squealed before releasing and bringing it forward. Once both hands were pinned above her head, he reached down, angled himself toward her and rocked his hips.

For a moment, they locked eyes and lay there breathing—just one moment before Fenrir's body began to move on top of her, against her, inside of her. There were gasps and moans between them. Some were captured between the cavern of chest and mouth. Some were shattered against unwilling bodies that thrashed against each other. Several times, Bellatrix struggled to break free, but Fenrir subdued her. All the while, he drove into her, feeling that warmth wrap around him. This was perhaps the only time he felt close to something, to someone. He let himself truly sink into her—to the flesh and the woman and the heat, and spilled into her stolen embrace.

His body fell atop her, slick with sweat and chest heaving with exertion. Perhaps it was just the after-coitus lethargy that kept him there, but Bellatrix could not move from beneath his weight. She could barely breathe. A few rapid thoughts passed before she realized that he'd fallen asleep. Outraged, she lifted her head enough to lock her teeth on his ear and bite firmly. Fenrir jerked back, understanding a little too late that he was attached to the woman under him. He bellowed, batting at her. She took a paw to the side of her face before he moved enough she could squirm away. Back against the wall, she took a defensive crouched position and waited. Fenrir merely sat back on his arse and laughed. He collected his wand and healed the bite, leaving the scratch marks and other small wounds.

"Wench." He'd mumbled it, but she heard it, all the same. After a brief respite, he walked over to the mattress in the corner of the cell. Bellatrix had looked it over earlier, but paid it no mind. Dropping down onto the grungy thing, Fenrir was huddled asleep again without another thought. Bellatrix tried several times to get his wand, but each time she attempted to cross the barrier of the mattress, she was repelled with a vicious zapping hex.

Two more times he woke and took her before exhaustion forced her weary vigilance into sleep. Hours later, Fenrir stood over her, watching as her breathing remained quiet and even. He'd worn them both out, but her body actively worked to heal the many injuries they'd inflicted together. Fingers wove through his hair, combing knots out of the tangled mess. Sniffing himself, he grunted. Good enough for the masses until he could shower.

"Wake up, bitch." Sharp. The pain in her shoulder was sharp as his heel ground the bone into the floor. Her eyes shot open, only for her body to retreat further against the wall. Fenrir grinned and shot a " _stupefy!_ " toward her before reaching down, hefting her weight on his shoulder, and unwarding his cell door.

An entire room of whispers and conversations hushed as Fenrir stalked into the room, Bellatrix's still body slung over his shoulder. Some began quiet chatter anew, but others stared openly at the proud display. When he reached the center of the room, her unmoving form was dumped to lay prone on the marble floor.

Voldemort hissed, wand out and pointed toward Fenrir in the span of a breath. "I told you not to kill her." The sounds rolling off his tongue were soft, but they grew louder and more strained as he went on.

Fenrir grinned, using the toe of his boot to smash against Bella's ribs. She coughed—a harsh, wracking cough, and spluttered blood all over the rough hide of his floor-bound foot. The werewolf laughed, then. "She ain't dead." He turned to leave as Voldemort walked over to Bellatrix. She was lifting herself from the floor, wincing as her abused shoulder protested even that little bit of use.

A wand was thrown at her feet. Fingers wrapped around the handle and her eyes closed. In between the gawking and Fenrir's smooth retreat, Bellatrix shrieked. Perhaps shriek is not the right word; a banshee's cry might better suit. She lifted her wand, pointed it toward her jailer's legs and bellowed an, "Incarcerous!" Instantly, Fenrir was dropped to the ground, flailing to get the lashings undone, but failing. His eyes widened as he saw Voldemort turn to Bellatrix, cupping her chin.

"Now, now, Bella. You know that you deserved your punishment." Her nod was sickeningly enthusiastic.

"Yes, my lord."

"So why attack the man I chose to carry out my will?" His fingers were tightening slowly.

"I accept your punishment, my lord. I want a treat now." A raised eyebrow greeted her request.

"What is it that you want?"

"The wolf. I won't kill him, of course." Her sadistic grin was back, followed by a short cackle. She wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth and stuck the finger in, savoring the taste.

"Oh, you _do_ like to play games." He paused, pretending to think it over. "No killing—only maiming. Same rules." Voldemort summoned Fenrir's wand and the man's eyes bulged, feeling the panic settle low in his stomach like an old piece of meat.

"Yes, my lord. Thank you." She was on her knees now, bowing low to the ground.

"Go. Get him out of my sight."

"Yes, my lord." She struggled to rise and Voldemort stepped back to watch her with amused eyes. He raised his chin when she was finally on her own two feet, licking split and bloodied lips. She hobbled toward her prey, seeing the worm-like wriggle on the floor and basking in the joy that would be forthcoming. A hovering charm worked well enough for her. She refused to carry the bastard.

"Do you think they'll ever tire of their games?"

"No, Lucius." The blonde stood before him, crisp grey robes freshly tailored.

"It's unseemly." The elder Malfoy paused for a moment, rolling it over on his tongue. "As if they think we've yet to figure it out." He paused. "They all have their secrets, I suppose." He gestured to the death eaters around him with his cane. When it landed on Rabastan Lestrange, it faltered just enough to be noticeable, if one was watching carefully.

"As do you, Lucius." Voldemort reached out, hand squeezing one of the blonde's shoulders until the grip was uncomfortable. "As do you." Malfoy looked up in time to watch as Lord Voldemort offered his arm and escorted Narcissa from the room.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Open**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	24. Not With A Bang (Number 23)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Not With a Bang** **(Number 23)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance/Drama**

 **Pairing:** **It's a Secret! Shhhh**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Not With a Bang**

* * *

Narcissa woke in the middle of the night, her eyes fluttering open as she heard the whisper of his voice float through her mind. She woke slowly, deliberately; she fought it, as she always did, knowing that the moment her eyes opened her view of reality would be dim and crushing. In the darkness she could see the glow of Lucius's pale hair, his shoulders shaking in his sleep.

He never would recover. Neither would she.

She ought to hold him, she knew. She wanted to, but he was a stranger in her arms. Had been for a long time.

Too long.

With Draco missing nearly a year, she had been wretchedly emptied, hollowed out with sorrow and left aching in her grief. The Dark Lord's presence was pervasive, his twisted influence a lingering shadow in what scattered shards remained of her life.

And then there was _him._

She heard her name on his lips, a fleeting whisper in a darkened room. He shouldn't say it, should never have said it. And she - she shouldn't hear it. There were so many elements of _wrong_ that she spent most of her time desperately fighting it; whatever pleasure she managed to take from him, it was scattered and frantic, scarcely enough to outweigh the guilt.

But in the intimate moments, in the pressure of his fingers on her back, the brush of his lips on her throat - she was powerless and whole. Desolate and fulfilled.

It was _wrong_. All wrong.

She wasn't sure she could identify how it started; truth be told, she hadn't even realized how far she'd gone until she heard herself say his name, a desperate cry that ripped itself from her lips, and afterwards she had gasped, hearing it, her nails embedded in his shoulder, the look of rapturous hunger in his eye that hadn't yet extinguished. It never would, perhaps. He always wanted more, he always demanded _more_ , and yet he must have known.

Surely he had known she never had anything to give.

A symptom of his youth, she was sure. He was a well that could never be filled, and so was she, in a manner of speaking. Never enough.

Never enough.

But the slip of his tongue along her spine, the scrape of his teeth against her inner thigh; she was somehow even less without it. Despite her better judgment she knew she would amount to less than nothing without him, and she was powerless in his arms.

He held her like the world was ending, and perhaps it was. She wondered how he had even seen her, how he had managed to catch a glimpse of her at all when she was so sure she had already disappeared, her presence shrinking to nothing in the heavy weight of her loss. The loss of her husband, the shell of him cold in her bed; the loss of her son, his absence an abrasion embedded in the depths of her soul. She was sure she had gone. She was sure she was nothing.

And yet _he_ saw her.

She had always been vain, always been proud. Always been beautiful. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised when it happened; perhaps he'd been looking long before she actually caught the glimmer of craving in his eye.

First it was her name on his lips; her first hint should have been the shiver that ran through her, the dull roar that pulsed to a scream in her mind at hearing him say it. It felt like a secret even when it was nothing, even when it was less than nothing; just her name on his lips.

And then it was the brush of his hand up her spine when nobody was looking. She'd had to close her eyes at the agony of it. The devastation of knowing it was _wrong_ , all wrong, and yet please - please.

Again.

 _Again._

When had he known he had her? Perhaps she'd never want to know, never want to admit herself so weak as to allow herself comfort in his grasp.

 _Stop._

She'd felt him smile at that.

 _Never._

 _Please,_ she begged, as he brought his hands to her waist. _Stop._

He relaxed his hold and she nearly wept against him.

His breath against her ear, laughing.

 _Never._

She realized she had left the bed, left her chambers, left the interior of the home she'd spent years building and only moments destroying; she was wandering in her gardens, her feet bare, her hair loose. This is what it had come to.

It was dark outside, and dewy. The smell of gardenias and summer in the air and yet she could only think of him, of the elegance of his fingers, the quickness of his wit, whenever she permitted him his stolen moments; it was rare, certainly, but she was weak. Her life had made her weak. Her love had made her damaged, and he had sprung up in the cracks, finding a twisted home in her contemptible vulnerability.

 _This cannot last_ , she told him, and he pressed her roughly against the wall.

 _Fine_ , he muttered, ripping her bodice and lowering his head to her breasts.

 _This has to stop,_ she insisted, and he ground against her, lifting her leg over his hip.

 _Fine_ , he agreed, slipping inside her. _Say my name._

No.

 _Say it._

And it always came out in a gasp, revealed itself in a whimper.

 _Again_.

No.

 _Say it again._

No, no, no.

But she always did. And she clung to him, selfishly.

 _Don't stop._

 _I won't._

 _Don't -_

 _Never,_ he promised her, and the pain was exquisite.

She sank to the ground, fighting it. Fighting the want, the need. It was _wrong_ , all wrong; it was all she had and that alone was proof she had nothing.

Less than nothing.

 _This has to stop._

 _Fine_ , he said, his arms tight around her as she sobbed against his chest. Proof she had nothing.

And now she was here. Another sleepless night, like always. The smell of gardenias and summer and yet all she could think of was him.

The sun would be up soon, she thought, closing her eyes.

"You should be sleeping."

He always knew where to find her. He was observant that way, and relentless.

A symptom of youth.

"Don't," she warned, her eyes still closed.

He knelt behind her, his chest pressed against her back. She would have sighed in satisfaction if the thought of him didn't catch in her throat and choke her.

"Lie to me," she whispered.

"This doesn't mean anything," he murmured back, his lips against her ear.

She sighed, letting it happen.

 _Again._

"Say my name," he told her, tangling his fingers in her hair and yanking her head back, running his fingers delicately from the curve of her lips to the pulsing hollow of her chest.

 _Wrong, all wrong._

"Theo," she said, and he sank his teeth into her neck.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **No Preferences**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	25. One Beast, Two Beasts (Number 24)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **One Beast, Two Beasts** **(Number 24)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Hurt/Comfort**

 **Pairing:** **Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour, Bill Weasley/Remus Lupin**

 **Trigger Warnings:** **Explicit sex; mentions of violence, blood, injuries, war; assumed infidelity**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **One Beast, Two Beasts**

* * *

Bill had begun counting the full moons. This was his third, the second since the wedding, and his first by the seaside. He couldn't sleep and spent the nights tossing and turning, then pacing, then prowling, then running outside into the night air and the light of the moon. He could not say he hated it, he felt very alive, every sense acute. But lonely to run along the beach with only the crashing waves to keep him company.

He had only been laying down for half an hour when a knock came at the door. Fleur stirred immediately next to him, drawing her wand from the bedside table.

"Bill-" she hissed, turning to shake him awake.

"I know, I'll go see who it is," he whispered, rising up from the bed, reaching for his own wand. Bill knew that Fleur was always on edge, ever since the wedding she hadn't been able to sleep well, always alert and cautious. Even so far away from everything, they could never feel safe.

Bill's senses were still finely tuned, even as the mornings light began to fill the house, thin and grey, filtering in through light curtains and accompanied by the ever-present beating of the waves. That was why, even as he came down the stairs from their bedroom, he knew who was at the door, and he knew he was hurt.

"Remus-"

"What advice did I give you after the attack?"

"Come on, Remus, you're hurt-"

"What did I say?" Remus insisted, grabbing at his ribs in pain. There were cuts bleeding on his face and his clothes seemed to be barely holding together, and Bill was tempted to just grab him and drag him inside. But he knew that the full wolf was unrelenting, and there was something about the way Remus smelled then, bleeding, sweating, panting that filled up Bill's senses. He couldn't do much more besides breathe in the scent and answer.

"You told me to hold onto my pack."

Remus collapsed against the door frame, breath ragged. Bill caught him around the middle before he fell completely and the older man grunted in pain at the pressure on his ribs.

"Fleur!" Bill called out, but she was already leaving the stairs and coming to his side.

"Bring him inside and set him down," she said, helping them through the door and pulling it shut behind them. Bill was a good deal taller and broader than Remus so he had little trouble pulling him up to his feet and leading him into the sitting room. Even the meager attempts to resist, the weak pushing, the mumbles of "I'm fine" and "I can stand" coming out of Remus with every step were like handling a mouse. What was more difficult was handling the overwhelming smell coming from the full werewolf now that the sea was not overpowering it; it was all Bill could do not to bury his head in Remus's hair. He'd never been with a wolf this close to the full moon.

Fleur came around in front of them, her hair especially silver in the faint morning light and a fire sparking in her eyes. She helped ease Remus down into a chair all the while cooing over his protestations and then pushed Bill away so that she could get in closer.

"Remus, what happened?"

"Deatheaters," he hissed out, coughing a little.

"They attacked you? How did they find you?" Bill asked as Fleur set to work healing the cuts on Remus's face.

"I was setting up a new safe house, I hadn't finished yet, I was careless" he said wincing.

"Shhhh, no, Remus, I doubt you were," Fleur cut in gently, laying her non-wand hand down on his arm and turning those newly-burning blue eyes fully on Remus. Bill heard his breath hitch and smiled slightly, knowing how it felt to get that look. Bill watched the rips in Remus's face seal up under the tip of Fleur's wand, like tearing in reverse. Bill took the seat on the sofa closest to Remus's chair and leaned in. Remus's smell was still so strong, Bill felt like he was breathing in too deeply. He caught Remus's eye as he did and the older man did that curious thing where he smiled with just his eyes and in embarrassment Bill moved a little farther away. If Bill was only a little wolf and he could smell so much, how strong would a full wolf like Remus's sense of smell be so close to the transformation?

"They hit me as I was coming back inside the wards, I had to run. Luckily I had stashed an extra bag in the woods for the full moon or I would be in even worse shape," he said, chuckling slightly, though Bill wasn't fooled. Remus kept his right arm tightly around his ribs and his breathing was labored. Fleur was shushing him gently as he kept talking, and he kept starting to say he was alright and then stopping halfway through, wincing in pain.

"Did someone turn you in?" Bill asked.

"I don't think so, no. They've been on me since your wedding, but I've been able to find safe houses so far," he tried to do the fake chuckle again, but lost it in a bout of hacking coughs.

"Enough, stop with the talking for now. Bill put some tea on," Fleur instructed and Bill did as he was told and he could hear Fleur whispering to Remus in the sitting room behind him, _probably telling him all about how this isn't his fault and he should just sit still for her to do her work_ , Bill thought. Sometimes he worried that he had married his mother by accident.

He hurried back into the sitting room to join them. Fleur had pulled Remus's cloak and shirt away to reveal his ribs, blossoming in violet and black, the sunlight now streaming through the curtains lending an extra touch of red to his body. Bill gasped so suddenly that both Remus and Fleur turned to look at him.

"I'll be fine, Bill," Remus said softly, but surely. Fleur looked at Bill with her fire blue eyes, questioning, and then turned back to Remus's wounds.

"Do you think they will track you here?" Bill asked, quietly, coming to stand next to Fleur, who didn't look up.

"No, I don't think – hssss – they could follow me," he coughed again, but Bill could see the purple and black sinking away, and Remus's breathing came more steady. "Thank you, Fleur. I realize it's a tad late, but happy honeymoon," he said, smiling more fully when Fleur smiled back at him.

"Never late, Remus. You are very welcome here," she replied, straightening back up and letting her silver-blonde hair fall around her.

"Yeah, Remus, you are welcome. If you need a place, you can stay here with us," Bill said, putting his arm around Fleur's shoulders and looking down at the older man.

"I can't intrude, this is your home, you're newlyweds-" he tried.

"You are right," Fleur interjected. "We are newlyweds, and we would like to invite you in. Consider it a wedding gift."

The kettle screamed to life in the kitchen and Bill went to pour some tea for everyone. Remus was putting on a brave face, but he was quickly succumbing to his tiredness and barely made it through the cup of tea that Bill handed him before Fleur offered to show him to the guestroom. Bill did a quick clean-up of the sitting room and the small trail of blood which Remus had dropped starting just outside the door. He suddenly felt the need to clean everything, the whole house, something in the constant straightening he had watched his mother do whenever company came over was coming out.

"I don't think he'll mind the dishes," Fleur giggled from the doorway to the kitchen, startling him.

"I.. I know," Bill laughed. While Fleur moved about making a more filling breakfast than just tea, Bill sat at the kitchen table, nothing to do but think. Was this what all lycanthropes felt? This pull towards each other? How could Remus spend so much time alone? He looked so sad under that smile, so alone, Bill had never felt alone before but somehow he could feel it when he looked at Remus. _Such a shame_ , he thought, _Remus would be damn good looking if he wasn't so miserable_. He was so much younger than he seemed too, and smart, and brave, and kind, and loyal, and… And _like him_.

"What do you think we should do?" Fleur asked.

"What do you mean?" They had already invited him to stay. What were they going to do, kick him out?

"I mean… This," she said, waving her hand around the kitchen. Bill knew what she meant now, but still he smiled.

"You mean the curtains? They aren't my favorite, but I don't think that's exactly pressing," he said, tongue in cheek. Fleur slapped his arm, smiling even with her cold blue eyes.

"No, non, _Bill_ ," she chided. "You know what I mean!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, the smile falling away as he looked out at the ocean. "I don't know."

"Do you think we are safe here?" Fleur said, now whispering. Bill wondered if it was Remus she was afraid of hearing them, or something bigger, farther away, dangerous. "How did he know how to find us?"

"He and Kingsley were the only ones outside the family who know about this place. He could only get here because I told him how, before the wedding," Bill confessed. Truth be told, seeing Remus show up in his best clothes, still tattered and roughly darned, he had felt such an overwhelming wave of pity that he couldn't help it. He'd wanted Remus to have a place to come to. They had to stick together now. _Hold on to your pack._

Fleur didn't question him on why he had done it, which was good. He didn't know if he could say those things to her. But the way she was looking at him seemed to say she knew.

"Do you think they need us?" she asked, pushing the cooling eggs around on her plate. Bill considered.

"The Ministry thinks we're just on honeymoon. Gringotts won't ask questions."

"We could be _fighting_ , Bill," Fleur leaned in close to him, and he could see the fire getting strong in her eyes. Part of what had drawn Bill to her in those first few meetings had been the fire that seemed to roar just beneath her surface, she way her elegant, fluid movements sometimes became sharp and aggressive. The way when things went wrong, she would begin to curse harshly in French under her breath, thinking no one could hear her, letting the fire out a little. She spread that ferocity to those around her too, she made Bill more active, more productive, more ambitious. So he could see it in her eyes, the image she had planned of the two of them leaping in to battle, wands ablaze, fighting just like they had at the wedding, a smooth extension of their dance. But then that soft music of the waves came in through the window, the reflected light from the ocean caught on the side of his second cup of tea, and a sweet smell of salt and fish and earth and the faintest hint of Remus floated inside of him and he knew that wasn't what was needed of them.

"I think we need to stay here," he said, taking a hold of her hand. "They have enough fighters, there aren't enough safe places. I think we are doing exactly what we need to." Fleur looked the slightest bit disappointed by this statement, but then Bill saw her eyes flicker momentarily towards the guest bedroom, towards someone who had needed a safe place, and he could see she understood.

"You're right," she sighed, sitting back in her chair. They stopped talking for a little while and ate their breakfast, listening to the song of the seaside coming in from outside. Fleur finished her food and sipped from her tea. "You're glad he's here, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I am," he said. It felt good to say really, even if not saying it wasn't exactly lying it still felt somehow dishonest not to tell her.

"He's a good man," she said, sipping her tea again, eyeing Bill over the top of the cup.

"It's more than that, you know? It's that… I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"I think he's quite handsome, don't you?" Fleur said, looking down towards the guestbedroom. Bill almost spat out his tea.

"I- well yes, but I didn't mean – _that_. I meant..." Bill sputtered out.

"Single, available, rogue, attractive, stunning, wild-" Fleur started, her accent getting thicker and more exaggerated with each word.

"I meant he's like me and he'll really understand what I'm going through," Bill finally said. He looked down the hallway towards the guest room, thinking of all the conversations they could have that they hadn't had a chance to before. He could ask Remus so many questions about what it was like, to compare his experience to that of a real wolf, a full wolf, to find out how different this would be for him, being the only half-wolf in the world. They could talk about what it felt like to be a beast in a human world, they could talk about how Remus's life had been, there was so much that Bill didn't know, they could _run_ together. They could run _together_.

"I understand too, Bill," Fleur said, cutting off his train of thought.

"What?"

"I understand what it's like. Did you forget what I am?" she said low, and Bill could see a touch of hurt in the blue fire of her eyes.

"But you're so…"

"Beautiful?" she led, and Bill knew he was in trouble. "You think that's the only part I inherited? You think the other side can't come out too?" Her voice was rising and she stood up. "We never talk about this Bill, but we both are like this. I go through these things too- I could smell him from our bed, too. I can smell you, too, all the time. I'm not human Bill," she said, losing steam and sagging at the shoulders. Bill stood from his chair too and took ahold of her hands, looking into her eyes which had gone a little greyer than usual. He stroked her hair until the blonde came back stronger than the silver.

"I'm sorry, my little champion," he said, leaning in to press their noses together. "I know you're like me, that you were before I was even like this. I want to know what you go through too." He smiled against her and she smiled too, then pressed her lips to his gently.

"My little beast," she purred back.

It was late night before Remus woke up. Bill and Fleur had gone to bed hours before, but only Fleur had fallen asleep. Bill was up still, he had been lying in the bed, then sitting in the chair in their room, and then for a time longer than he was really willing to think about he had stood outside of the guest bedroom, listening to Remus's breathing and smelling him through the door. Then he had run from the house, into the moonlight and the sea air and he hadn't stopped running for quite a while. When he finally stopped, he had made it all the way to the craggy rocks over a mile away, where the beach faded into cliffs. He gasped and panted, clutching at his side, the wind whipping the spray of the waves into his hair. He looked up, catching his breath, and the moon was still so big, almost full. It was not the same as the night before, but it still tugged at something low in his gut, still made his lungs fill, ready to howl. He looked back down the beach, in the direction of the home he couldn't see, and found that from here he could no longer smell Remus, at least not over the scent of the ocean, which was always crisper, cleaner at night. Even the relentless beating of the waves was more harmonious under the moonlight.

He started to walk back to the house, some of the nervous energy having abated, but as soon as he came into view of the house it was back, and he had to fight to keep from giving into the urge to run again. Remus stood on the stone path in front of the door, lifting his face up to the moon, his serious face lit by silver. The light brushed the pre-mature wrinkles away from his brow, highlighted the blonde in his hair, and sparkled in his eyes, like the moon was smiling for him. Bill had walked back slowly, but suddenly he was out of breath again. A large wave came crashing down onto the sand and Remus looked away from the moon, right at Bill, the sparkle still in his eyes.

"It's a nice night, isn't it?" he hummed, stepping down the stone path towards the sandy shore. Bill nodded, but he was unsure if 'nice' was the word he would choose. He didn't know quite what to say to Remus, if he could even say anything. Embarrassingly, he was stuck thinking about those long minutes he had spent listening to Remus sleeping. "Everything feels so quiet after the full moon," Remus said, smiling very slightly.

"Not the ocean," Bill responded, finding his voice. Remus chuckled and looked out at the waves receding. Bill looked at them too, then looked back into Remus's face. "But it sounds better after."

"Will tomorrow be your first time here?" Remus asked, still looking at the tide.

"Yeah."

"It's been a long time since I've seen the ocean," Remus almost whispered, like it was the ocean breeze pulling the words from his mouth.

"Take off your shoes, come on," Bill said, touching Remus's elbow gently, and a wave of heat passed between them, causing Remus to finally look at Bill. His eyebrows were questioning, but Bill just smiled at him, convincingly he hoped, and started to walk towards the edge of the waves. Bill was already barefoot, he always ran barefoot.

"It'll be cold?" Remus questioned. Bill laughed.

"We're wolves! Aren't we tougher than that?" he joked, a little risky, and for a split second he had thought that he had said something he shouldn't have but then Remus let out a barking, snorting laugh, harsher than any sound Bill had ever heard out of him and he was kicking off his beat up shoes and stripping out of his ratty socks, jogging towards Bill and the waves. He reached the end and stopped abruptly, causing Bill to almost run into him. "What is it?" he asked, taking hold of Remus's arm from behind. Remus kept looking at the waves almost lapping at his toes.

"It's been so long…" he whispered.

"No time like the present," Bill said back, low, almost whispering too. He bent down and scooped up a handful of water from the next wave and lifted it up to Remus, the drips falling from his hand glittered in the moonlight like diamonds. Remus reached out his hand and gently dipped his fingers into the salt water in Bills hand, and when the tips touched Bills palm they were almost burning hot. Remus breathed in sharply, staring at Bill's hand and now, up close, Bill could smell him more strongly over the scent of the ocean and everything felt too intimate so he dropped his hand, letting the water splash back into the sea. Remus looked up at him, but Bill turned his face away and moved back a little. Remus leaned away slightly too, but then without warning he hurdled forward into the waves; it was so sudden that Bill couldn't help but exclaim in surprise and this caused Remus to do the strange snorting laugh again. To hell with it, Bill thought and he ran after Remus into the next wave, soaking his pants up to the knee and laughing too.

"It is cold!" Remus exclaimed and Bill bent down to splash him, but the older werewolf beat him too it and Bill was left wiping the salt water off his face and pushing his long red hair back, only to look up and see Remus smiling deviously.

"And to think you were my brothers' professor!" Bill laughed, scooping water up and flinging it towards Remus, who was chuckling a little softer than before.

"I may have played a few tricks on my students," he said with a trickster smirk, then his head snapped around, looking intently at the waves, looking through them and sniffing. Bill could smell them too, the seals out just a bit farther than he would swim. Their birthing season was starting, he and Fleur had made a special trip to their shores to watch some of them being brought into the world, and both had made some not-too-subtle suggestions about doing the same. Bill felt a sudden urge to tell Remus that baby seals were called pups. It seemed very relevant somehow.

"Fleur and I talked this morning, after you went to sleep," he said instead. It took Remus a few seconds to look back at Bill, and his face was more like the Remus Bill used to know, more composed and hesitant.

"I presume about me," Remus replied, and Bill could hear that it wasn't a question.

"Sort of. We talked about the war, the fighting," he said, looking away from Remus and stretching his toes, which were starting to get painfully cold.

"It may be a little self-serving, but I don't think you should join the fighting," Remus said, and despite the resolution he had come to this morning with Fleur that they would stay out of it, he still felt the slightest twinge of disappointment. A part of him, and he knew which part, had wanted Remus to suggest they fight together. _This is what Fleur must have been feeling_ , Bill thought.

"That's what we thought too- why would that be self-serving for you?"

"I wouldn't have had anywhere to go," Remus said, and Bill looked back into his face and couldn't help but smile. He felt a little warmer seeing the tender smile on Remus's face, even if it had that touch of sadness. Above them a grey cloud moved in front of the moon and they both looked up.

"We talked about… what we are, too," Bill said, so quiet the crashing waves almost drowned him out, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus nodding. "She said that I should remember that she's like us too." Remus looked away from the clouded moon at Bill and Bill looked back at him.

"I was turned when I was four," he said. Remus and Bill had never much talked about Remus's past. Bill knew he had been young, but not that young and his eyes widened in surprise. Remus raised his hand and Bill didn't say anything, closing his open mouth. "I had a life before I was a werewolf. I don't remember it, but I had one. You had decades of being human, without qualifiers. You were just a human. And now you are a little bit something else, but you are still mostly human," he said and Bill furrowed his brows. He knew that he wasn't really a werewolf, he knew that he had barely been afflicted, but he couldn't ignore that he was part that now. He opened his mouth again, preparing to speak past Remus's silencing hand when the full lycanthrope cut him off.

"Fleur has never had that. She has never been just human, Bill," he said, sloshing forward through the waves to come and stand before him. He grabbed Bill's arm tightly, and Bill could see there was an element of desperation in Remus's eyes, a little yellow flashing in the usual brown. "I told you to hold onto your pack. There's no one in the world who can understand you as well as she can. You have to listen to her," he pushed and Bill could hear the pleading underneath his words. Remus was staring into his eyes, unflinching, waiting for a response and Bill didn't really know what to say except:

"I will."

"Good," Remus said, exhaling and Bill tried not to get lost in the smell of his breath. Remus let go of his arms but didn't move back. The cloud blew away from in front of the moon and they were again bathed in moonlight, unable to resist the temptation to look up at the silver light in the sky. Bill knew what he wanted to say.

"I know that she understands what it's like to not be human, but… But she doesn't know what it's like to be a wolf either." Remus smirked, still looking at the moon.

"True, true. I'm not sure anyone else knows what it's like to run with the moon," he said, and then he looked back up at Bill, that trickster look glinting in his eyes, and Bill found that he couldn't resist that at all. Remus was still holding onto his arms, heat still pulsing between them, so much so that Bill barely even noticed how cold the ocean was. "What say we have a little run, Bill?" Remus proposed, leaning in close to Bill's face so that his breath blew right across Bill's nose, and there was not a fiber in Bill's body capable of saying no.

He didn't even have to respond before Remus was leaping away from him, back to the sand, and running down the beach, the opposite direction as where Bill had run before. Bill went sprinting after him and he found his mind switching into another place, another being, there were no words anymore, just the smell of Remus and the ocean, the pounding of Remus's feet in the sand and the crashing of the waves beside them. Chasing became his everything, his heart beat, his emotions, the rhythm of his arms and legs, and he was catching up, closing in, tied, passing, leaping ahead with no finish line and then he was hit from behind and came tumbling to the ground in a mass of thrashing limbs.

Remus was growling in his ears, grabbing at his hands, rolling them in and out of the surf, each with no thought other than coming out on top. Remus had more experience with this game, Bill could sense it, feel it in the way his body was pressing against him. Remus pinned his legs down, stretched his hands above his head, and laughed that snorting, barking laugh in Bill's face. Their bodies were touching at every point, bare skin on bare skin, breath heaving out into the shared air between them, each taking in the others'.

Bill stared up into Remus's golden eyes, transfixed, and a thought came into his mind: to close the last distance. Remus seemed to have the same thought and Bill's heart skipped as he leaned down, brushing their faces against each other, so close, and then he missed Bill's mouth. Instead Remus buried his head in Bill's neck and Bill couldn't help but push and struggle against him as Remus's hot breath bathed over his thin skin, feeling his flaring nose press into him. Remus's body was fighting back, pressing down harder, almost rhythmically, rocking into Bill like the tide and Bill's back arched against his will, thrusting him up into Remus's body, forcing every part of them together and Bill was done with waiting so he used all his strength to pull one hand free from Remus's grip, grab the werewolf's hair and drag his mouth up to Bill's.

Bill had never had a kiss so violent, and his face would show the evidence for days. Remus dominated everything, pushing into Bill's mouth, beating out his tongue, marking every tooth, every cheek, every lip, every bud on Bill's tongue as his own and Bill was almost screaming into his mouth but Remus just growled through it. He ripped Bill's hand from his hair and then grabbed onto Bill as they started rolling across the beach, rubbing their bodies together, grinding the sand into their skin, and Bill was finding the strength to fight back.

He tore into Remus's already ripped clothes, stripping the smaller wolf down almost naked in seconds while Remus made short work of Bill's clothes. Bill worked his legs between Remus's and used the leverage to spread them apart so that Remus was straddling his hips, pressing their cocks together through what remained of their pants. Remus pulled him up, sitting and grinding into Bills crotch, growling into his mouth, fucking him with his tongue, nails digging into his shoulders. Bill reached around him, dragging his nails down Remus's back and he knew he drew blood and that just made Remus press into him harder, he grabbed ahold of Remus's ass, squeezing and separating the cheeks.

One of Remus's hands worked its way between them, tearing the last fabric away that separated their erections, taking both of them into his hands at once, his long fingers burning like fire and stroking them together so hard Bill started to whimper. Had there been any words in his head at the time, Bill might have thought about how he had never done this before, but where it stood now, Bill couldn't imagine having existed ever outside of this sweating, panting, crushing, bleeding moment. He pressed one finger into Remus hard and when Remus's breath hitched, and he pushed his body a little farther from Bill's, a little farther onto Bill's finger, he dug in harder. Remus lost the fight to keep his mouth on Bill's it hung slack, drooling onto Bill's chest, and he worked his other hand down to grab ahold of Bill's balls, squeezing them without rhythm, and fucking himself down onto Bill's fingers then grinding into his cock. When Bill added another finger he howled up, arching his back and his neck at the moon. That was enough for both of them and their cum spurted out, leaking onto Bill's stomach.

It was the icy feel of the waves coming down on his feet that finally shook Bill out of his post-orgasm stupor. He didn't know how long he had been out, but he was alone. He couldn't even smell Remus, except for the remnants of dried semen on his stomach. He felt suddenly, guiltily human. He stood before the next wave could hit his toes and stumbled back across the beach towards home, towards Remus. Towards his wife.

In the morning Bill pretended to sleep in, letting Fleur get up alone while he hid under the sheets not letting her see his face, the evidence from the night before. He didn't know how to face her. He couldn't lie to her, he'd never been good at it, but the thought of telling her scared him to the core. There'd been so much fire in her eyes as soon as Remus had showed up, like she was waking up from a sleep Bill hadn't known she'd been in. Every time Bill pictured her face though the image of Remus howling at the moon clouded her out and Bill had been fighting a recurring hard on for about three hours, every time the sensations of what he had done came back to him, his skin still burning from Remus's touch.

After almost an hour and a half of lying in bed, awake, alone, he decided that it was more pathetic to hide and not tell her than it would be to cower in fear and ask for forgiveness. So he got up, took another shower, and dressed himself. The shower took a little longer than he should have, but he finally lost the fight against his lower half and it was almost enough to make him lose his nerve too.

He paused halfway down the stairs and his heart dropped into his stomach. Fleur was crying. He could hear her in the kitchen, hear the tinkling sound of cups clinking against saucers. She knew, she had to know, that was why she was crying, he had ruined everything he had hurt her, this was all his fault- and then another sense came into his mind. It was a sense of absence.

He couldn't smell Remus. He couldn't smell Remus _anywhere_.

He stepped the rest of the way down the stairs and pushed the kitchen door open slowly. Fleur was standing by the sink, moving dishes back and forth without actually cleaning them. As Bill came in she kept her face turned away from him, wiping at her eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, quietly, afraid she would break if he spoke too loud.

"He - *hck* - he left," she said, in a tiny voice. Bill took a cautious step towards her, reaching out a hand but then rethinking it and putting his arm back by his side.

"When?"

"A while ago," she whispered and her shoulders sagged and she collapsed over the dishes on the counter. Bill grabbed ahold of her instinctually, wrapping her in his arms, which were still raw from being sanded the night before. She struggled against him weakly, sobbing, and Bill fought back tears himself. She was hurting, and it was his fault. Once her cries quieted a little, he looked down at the top of her silver head, and he knew he had to do it.

"Fleur, there's something I need to tell you," he muttered, steeling his jaw to cooperate. He could do this, he had to do this, it was the right thing-

"Bill, I know, I knew last night," she said against his chest, her hands balled up into his robe. He gasped, and tried to push her back enough to look in her face, to try and see if she really meant what she was saying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" he began, feeling like there were not enough apologies in the world to make up for this.

"Don't be. I told him to do it," she said, wiping her eyes and nose, looking up at him. "I thought it would be good for the both of you. I could see the way you were looking at each other, the way you felt, and our lives are so short Bill, they are too short and the war-"

It was Bill's turn to cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing his lips to hers in a gently, brief kiss.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, pulling her in close for another embrace. His wife, sweet and aggressive, tender and resilient, reserved and compassionate. He kissed to the top of her head, at the silver hairs that reminded him of the beast part of her, of the edge to her beauty. He felt, in the brisk morning air, in the shimmer of the ocean light, that Remus's words had been true. _There's no one in the world who can understand you as well as she can. You have to listen to her._ "Did he say why he left?"

"He said he was sorry, for what he brought here. He wanted this place to stay safe." Even as Bill felt a small emptiness grow inside him, he knew that Remus had been right. Remus was a man of peace, but now he needed to be a beast of war. More of Remus's words floated into Bill's mind as he looked down into Fleur's tearful, loving face. _Hold on to your pack_ , he had said and Bill realized now that Remus had never meant to include himself. Bill could not hold on to him, he had to run. Swaying in the slight ocean breeze that stirred their kitchen curtains, he held on tight to his wife, his little champion, his little beast, and he was in turn held by her. The sweetness of the ocean and of Fleur's natural magic filled him up and for the first time in months he finally felt at peace.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	26. Comeuppance (Number 25)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Comeuppance** **(Number 25)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Post-War**

 **Pairing:** **Astoria Greengrass/ Hermione Granger**

 **Trigger Warnings:** **Language and lemons**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Comeuppance**

* * *

" _Draco!_ "

" _Shit_ ," He muttered, trying to think of how he could avoid his wife. Not finding any inspiration in the bottom of the glass of Ogden's finest Firewhisky he had in his hands, he decided responding was the better part of valor.

"Yes, love?"

"Don't you 'yes, love' me! Did you fire _another_ nanny today?"

"Yes, yes I did," he answered, moving towards the kitchen where he knew she'd be.

"But you _knew_! You _knew_ that was our last chance with the agency. Who the _fuck_ is going to watch Scorpius if we can't get a nanny from the last agency in wizarding Britain? Merlin's beard Draco, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"She was teaching him about _motorcycles_ , Astoria. What would you have me do? Let our child die in a horrible accident that could have been prevented if we hadn't allowed our child, our _precious boy,_ to be taught by a muggle-born idiot?"

" _Muggle-born!?"_ Astoria shrieked, incensed at this latest indication that her husband had no idea how hard it was to find a qualified wizarding nanny, willing to live in the infamous Malfoy Manor, to keep track of their precocious son.

"It _always_ comes back to their parentage Draco, and I'm bloody sick of it! Has the war taught you _nothing_? Hermione Granger beat you in every single subject. How can you think that muggle-born witches and wizards are inferior?"

"She didn't beat me in History of Magic!" Draco retorted, his chin jutted out with pride.

"Right, because she turned out to have Dragon Pox."

"Listen, love, I didn't like her, OK? She was filling his head with nonsense! I don't understand why we can't find a pure-blooded witch, familiar with the old ways, un-mired in all of prejudice and derogation of the lower classes, to teach our son. Now that I think of it, that pretty much describes my mother…" he said nonchalantly, bringing up a long-dead subject.

"Draco, for the last time, _NO_! Your mother, while I… care… for her deeply, will not be raising my son. After all, I've been living with _you_ for almost a decade, and I shan't thrust that upon another woman!" Astoria spat, thoroughly annoyed with her husband. "I'm calling the agency and begging them to send a replacement. You _will_ be civil to this one, no matter whom they send, _are we clear?_ "

Draco knew that tone of voice and his only chance of survival was to agree, so he nodded dutifully and made his way back to the study, lamenting over his lack of freedom and the deplorable state of Britain's nanny system.

OoOoO

The following day, Astoria was in the kitchen when the fireplace came to life, turning green an instant later, heralding the arrival of their newest nanny. Astoria had had to beg, borrow and _steal_ to get the agency to send her another candidate. She'd had to sign a magical contract guaranteeing a six month term, just to get them to agree to think of a candidate suitable for her home. Draco's list of requirements was lengthy, even after she'd removed some of his more… distasteful requests.

Ready with a broad smile and a sweaty hand, Astoria braced herself for the new arrival, praying to any God that would listen that the candidate proved smart and agile of mind; at least agile enough to spar a few rounds with Draco.

Nothing could have prepared her for what came through her fireplace grate.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you," the woman in front of her said, eyes flicking left and right, taking in her surroundings.

"Hermione?" Astoria said, astonished at the sight before her.

"Yes, I know it's a mouthful, but I can assure you the children adapt quite quickly," Hermione said, shaking Astoria's hand brusquely. "Speaking of children, where is Scorpius? I should meet him."

"I… you… Do you know who I am?" Astoria asked, her mind running a mile a minute in no particular direction.

"Astoria Greengrass," Hermione supplied promptly, reviewing the piece of parchment she pulled out of her bag. "Your son's name is Scorpius, who is eight. You've had quite the litany of nannies come through here, though it never says why they left. Have there been deficiencies in their knowledge base, or their skills?" Hermione asked, producing a quill, so that she might take notes on where to brush up.

"Ummm… you might say that. My… husband is quite… difficult."

"Quite."

Hermione gasped, as she would know the voice anywhere. _Draco Malfoy_. Turning slowly, she paused to take a look at the man before her, for it was sure that he was a man now, not the boy she knew from Hogwarts. Standing at over six feet tall, broad shouldered, but still lean, he was the picture of elegance and class. Staring down at her practical woolen jumper, and blue jeans, she hardly felt like she belonged here. Gathering her wits and her confidence about her, she turned to him and extended her hand.

"Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you again. I'm the new nanny sent by the agency to watch after Scorpius. I trust that you'll be happy with my tutelage."

At that, Hermione turned to Astoria and said, "Ms. Greengrass, could you show me to my quarters? I'd like to get unpacked before I go see Scorpius. I assume he's in his room?"

"Uhhh… absolutely?" Astoria sputtered, unsure what to make of the expression on her husbands face. Happy to leave him there to his own thoughts, Astoria led Hermione toward the west wing of the house. "Follow me," she said demurely, gesturing through the set of doors that Draco was standing in front of.

"If you'll excuse me…" Hermione said to Draco as she passed.

"Fuck _me_ ," Draco said, closing his eyes hoping fervently that this whole morning had been a figment of his imagination.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, stopping to glance in his direction, the fire in her eyes indicating she'd heard _exactly_ what he'd said.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Draco murmured, unwilling to repeat his original comment.

Hermione's pallor turned pale as she registered his words before saying a quiet, "Thank you, I look forward to being here."

OoOoO

Hermione had thanked Astoria politely upon being shown to her room, and promptly shut the door in her face. Turning to rest her back on the door and take in her surroundings, she took a deep, deep breath.

Malfoy Manor. _I never thought I'd be back here_. Shaking herself, she began to concentrate on the task of unpacking her things. On the desk under the window, she placed her photos; one of her parents, trying to stay perfectly still despite the fact that Hermione had told them it was a wizarding camera, and a picture of her, Ron and Harry at Hogsmeade.

She smiled at the memory, and then began unpacking her books. Before removing a single tome, Hermione opened her bag, pointed her wand and said " _Accio bookshelf!_ " A miniature bookshelf, about the size of an acorn, came flying out of the bag to be deftly caught out of the air by a tiny, blonde haired little boy.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, having not realized he was there. "And who are you, young sir?"

"I'm Scorpius," the boy replied playfully, holding his prize tightly in his fist, now jammed behind his back. "Scorpius _Malfoy_." He said his name with the same emphasis on his last name that his father had used in school; like that alone should impart some knowledge on how to interact with him.

"I see," Hermione said gravely, trying to surpress a grin. "And why, exactly, are you in my quarters? It isn't polite to enter someone's room without their permission."

"Malfoy Manor is my house, so it's not really yours, now is it?" he said snottily, pulling his hand out from behind his back and brazenly examining his stolen object.

Hermione having had enough of his snark, wandlessly called the bookshelf to her. Scorpius yelped in surprise as the object left his hand speeding across the room into her open palm. "This may be your house, but this _is_ my room, as per the legal contract made between my employer and your family. Therefore, you'll need permission to enter it again. Are we clear?"

Scorpius scowled at her, the wheels in his head visible as he turned over the information in his mind. Hermione could tell that he was not used to people speaking to him this way, and she shuddered at how much work she clearly had to do.

"And this?" Hermione asked, gesturing toward the shrunken bookshelf. "This, you _know_ isn't yours, so why'd you take it?"

"I didn't _take_ it, I _caught_ it. I didn't want it to break! I'm no thief," he spat, stomping his foot for emphasis.

"Ahhhh, my mistake then, and my apologies, sir. Thank-you for keeping it safe." As she said this, she took out her wand and returned the bookshelf to its full height – which was to the ceiling. One by one she pulled books out of her bag, stacking them on the shelf in alphabetical order, first by subject, then by author.

She hadn't taken her eye off the boy as she went about the task of setting her room and her possessions to rights, and was intrigued by the level of curiosity there.

"Do you have a question, Scorpius?"

"Several," he stated plainly, skeptical that she would answer them.

"Well, let's have it!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely! The only way one can learn is by asking questions, then finding the answers. Let's see if I can answer some of yours."

"Ok… why'd you call me sir?" he asked, timid.

Hermione, answered plainly. "Sir, or Madam, is a term of respect. I respect you, and so I address you with respect."

"You _respect_ me? But I'm a child!" he blurted, covering his mouth and trying to regain his composure.

"Yes you _are_ a child, but a smart one. You have your own thoughts, ideas, and opinions, and if we're going to continue together, I think there's going to have to be a certain amount of respect. Wouldn't you agree?"

He thought about this for awhile before nodding, already intent on his next question.

"How'd you fit all those books and that bookshelf into that tiny bag?" he demanded, and she recognized the thrill of discovering new magic. _You and I are going to get along just fine, little man_.

"It's an undetectable extension charm. It's illegal, except for some – I happen to be one of them."

"Because of what you did in the war?" The question, stated so baldly, took Hermione aback. She had to remember that it wasn't malicious, and that he wasn't throwing the events of her past in her face on purpose. He was a child, and he was curious, that's all.

"Yes, among other things," she replied, watching as he digested her answer. He seemed satisfied for now, but she knew she'd have to answer that one more clearly one day.

"When are we going to start tutoring?" he asked, wandering around her room, picking up her things, but making an effort to put them back exactly as he'd found them. _Respect_ , she thought to herself. _Good, he knows what it means._

"I expect we've already started, sir."

"Oh? Well, yes, I guess we have… Madam?"

"You may call me Hermione, if you'd like," she said with a smile.

"And you may call me Scorpius. Thank-you Hermione!" he said with a smile as he skipped out of her bedroom.

 _Perhaps this job won't be so bad after all._

OoOoO

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Hermione overheard tense voices through the grate in her sitting room. Moving to her beaded bag, she withdrew her extendable ears – a habit that she'd never managed to break after the war; the damned things were handy!

"Astoria, I'll not have _that woman_ , teaching our son," Draco yelled.

"Oh yes, you will Draco, because we're bound!" Astoria screamed back, sounding like she was particularly proud of the fact.

"What do you mean, we're ' _bound'_?" Draco demanded, his voice icy.

"I signed a magical contract that says we won't send her back until the 6 month mark. It was all I could do to get them to consider finding us a replacement! Draco, you can't keep doing this. Hermione Granger was top student in your class for every subject. _Yes, every subject!_ I won't hear again about how you 'beat' Hermione in History of Magic – she was ill - the only reason she beat her and you know it. If there is anyone more qualified to teach Scorpius, I've never met them. So you _will_ go along with this, Draco, or else."

"Or else?" he drawled, and Hermione could see him examining his fingernails in her mind, pretending he wasn't interested in the conversation.

"Yes, or else Draco. Or else, I'll start asking around for the divorce lawyer I've been talking about for so long. I will _not_ be treated like a doormat by you anymore, and I will _not_ raise that child by myself. I need _help_ Draco, and if you're not man enough to do it, the least you could do is give me a decent _nanny!_ "

The last word in this tirade was punctuated by the slamming of a door and the staccato click of heels moving down the hallway. Hermione was about to call back the ears and tuck them in her bag when she heard indistinct mumbling.

"Or else. Who does she think she is to threaten _me_ with divorce? My private investigator better come up with something soon to get me out of that prenuptial agreement, or I'm going to lose it. _Granger?_ As if I'd let that filthy mudblood teach my son…"

Hermione pulled the extendable ears back with a harsh pop, stuffing them back in her bag. After all these years, she was surprised that the old rhetoric still stung. Determined not to let it sour her mood, she pulled her hair back in a bobble, glanced in the mirror before casting a glamour to freshen her makeup and tame some of her fly away curls. _It's not vanity, it's professionalism_ ¸ she reassured herself, tugging down her jumper and rolling up her sleeves. _Now, let's go find Scorpius_.

OoOoO

She found him in the library, curled up in a chair with Hogwarts: A History. She smiled at the familiar tome, widely known as one of her favorites and cleared her throat. He looked up at her, and hurried to close the book, dog-earing one of the pages in the process.

"Scorpius!" she gasped, moving to take the book from him, straightening the page. "Never, ever, dog-ear book pages in my presence," she said quietly, hand on her chest.

Looking at her quizzically, he nodded, before asking, "Why? My dad does it all the time!"

"Of course he does," she muttered under her breath.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

Scolding herself, and loathing the fact that children had keener hearing than her own, she answered him. "I mean, of course he does, because these are his books, and he is allowed. You, however, are not. Plus, I believe that literature, as one of the highest forms of art, should never be given that disrespect. The thought of folding pages in books… sets my teeth on edge."

Scorpius caught a giggle as it tried to escape at the look on her face, like the idea of folding a page corner would cause her physical pain. "OK, Hermione. No folding book corners, promise."

"Excellent, now let's get to work. Where did you last leave off in your studies?" Scorpius, it seemed, was a diligent student and kept all of the syllabi that his previous nannies had provided him. Reviewing the plethora of curricula in her hands, she noticed a common theme. "No one ever included Muggle studies?" she asked, reviewing each list carefully to be sure she wasn't mistaken.

Scorpius wrinkled his nose in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Why would I need to learn about Muggle studies? I'm going to Hogwarts, Madam," he pointed out slowly, as if he thought she were daft.

"Yes, but so much of what happened in wizarding history is a direct result of, or had a direct impact on, Muggle society. Everything we do has an effect on the world, wizarding, or otherwise, no?"

"I mean, I guess. I just don't understand why I need to…" He didn't finish his sentence, sensing that it was wrong somehow, but he didn't know what to do now that he'd started.

"Care? There'll be no rebukes here. If I disagree, we can debate it. That's how learning works." He saw her take a deep breath and square her shoulders as if for battle, and prepared for a tongue lashing.

"Did you know that I'm a Muggle-born?" she asked calmly, her hands folded in her lap.

"Really _?_ " he demanded, his jaw dropping and his eyes bugging out.

"Really. Both of my parents were born in London, and are dentists – they look after people's teeth," she explained at the look of befuddlement on his face. "I found out I was a witch when Professor McGonagall showed up on my parent's doorstep to hand me my letter, and inform us that the odd things that happened around me weren't a coincidence, but a genetic trait."

"Gen-etic?" Scorpius repeated, his mouth working to form the word.

"Yes, genetic. Genetics is a Muggle field of science that studies how human beings come together. What makes you, you? Why do you have your father's blonde hair, but your mother's eyes? Why was I born a witch, when both my parents weren't? All of this can be answered by a field developed by Muggles. Still think you shouldn't care?"

Scorpius, whose eyes had gotten wider as he considered each question she had posed, shook his head, mute with the possibilities.

"Right then, here's the syllabus I have created for us. Take a minute to review it, and then if you have any questions, we'll discuss them. Fair?"

Surprised at being asked his opinion, Scorpius sat up straighter in his chair and began reading the syllabus, dedicated to understanding what was to come for the first time in his young life.

"Who are these people?" he asked, pointing to the list of authors Hermione had listed. "I've never heard of William Shakesbeard, or Janet Austen."

"William _Shakespeare_ , without the d please, and Jane Austen, are both famous Muggle writers who wrote fantastic stories. They're considered some of the greats."

"Oh, uh… right. How is this going to help me at Hogwarts though?"

"Tell me Scorpius, what do you plan to do after Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, sitting back in her chair and regarding him carefully.

"I… I plan to go into business. With my father." he said, as if this should be obvious.

"Is that what you _want_ to do? Or what you think you _should_ do?" she asked, again, quiet and with polite interest. Like the question she was asking was of no importance, just a curiosity. The levity of the question allowed him to seriously consider his answer.

"I suppose it's what I always thought I would do. It's never been all that clear whether, or not I have a choice," he said, frowning. He didn't seem to like thinking that he didn't have a choice.

"OK, put that aside for the moment, and assume that nothing's predetermined. What would you like to be?"

"I… I think I'd like to be a lawyer," he said quietly, looking over his shoulder as if his mother and father were going to pop out and reprimand him.

"Excellent! Do you think that wizarding law ever intersects with the Muggle world? Or do you think that everything you'll ever need to know will be found within the walls of Hogwarts?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and watching him work it out for himself. This was her favorite part of being a nanny. Asking questions, using the Socratic method to open a child's mind and then sitting back and watching the tiny rose bud fully blossom, right before her eyes.

"I'd always thought of law as being sort of… never ending. So, I'd need to know _everything_ , not just what I learned at school. Wait… are you telling me that reading Muggle literature might help me with wizarding law?" he asked, his expression wondrous, practically salivating at the idea of getting his hands on new literature.

"Absolutely," Hermione said with satisfaction, knowing that she had him hooked. Patting him on the back, she gestured to the desk in the center of the room using her wand to bring over the first couple of subjects they'd be discussing. "So, which would you prefer to start with: Genetics, or Shakespeare?"

"Genetics," Scorpius replied promptly, holding his hand out eagerly for the textbook she'd brought.

Astoria watched the whole encounter through the charmed painting in the hallway. It acted like a one-way mirror; the side facing the library a painting of a knight from King Arthur's court astride his horse, while the other became translucent on command. She felt bad for spying, but even she had her weaknesses.

She watched Hermione with him, asking him questions, treating him like an adult. She was magnetic in the way that she interacted with him and he gravitated toward her like the needle on a compass to True North.

"Admiring the view?" Draco drawled from behind her. Startled, she whirled around, slapping him.

"I was simply overseeing our son and his tutor, like a good _parent_. Where have _you_ been?" she demanded, hands on her hips, her earlier fright being displaced by righteous anger.

"Out," he snapped, and turned on his heel toward the kitchen. "Pip!" he yelled to no one in particular, and was rewarded by a quick _pop!_ signalling the arrival of his personal house-elf. "Yes master?" she squeaked, eyes on the floor.

"Get me some tea. And don't over steep it! That last cup you brought me tasted like hippogriff piss."

"Yes master, right away!"

"Really Draco, that elf lives to please you. Must you treat it so poorly?"

"Come off it! I treat Pip exactly within the guidelines set down by the Ministry regarding the Fair Treatment of Magical Creatures Act, thank you very much. She even draws a salary," he said with a smirk, reaching out in the air just as a cup of tea, perfectly cooled appeared in his hand, and took a sip.

"A salary? 1 knut per annum is _not_ a salary Draco and you know it. You're flouting the rules, and you're going to get us all in trouble. Have you no thought for your family?"

"'Per annum' is exactly what _makes_ it a salary, Astoria. Or did you need me to look up the term for you? You've made it clear that we're not _family_ , love, so don't give me that load of shit. Family doesn't speak of divorce like it's an afternoon tea."

Sighing at his lack of empathy and unwillingness to change, Astoria began fixing herself a sandwich and asked, "What is it that you want, Draco?"

"I want you to let me out of my prenuptial agreement," he said, taking another sip of his tea. Astoria, who had a mouthful of food, nearly choked. "I beg your pardon?" she breathed.

"I would love to give you the divorce you so desperately want, but as you know, my fortune is tied with yours. If we divorce, I'm left with nothing except what was left after the Ministry took their pound of flesh, which wasn't much. It'll hardly keep me in the style to which I've become accustomed," he said, adjusting the sleeve of his ten galleon shirt so that it fit snugly around his heirloom watch.

"And what makes you think that I would let you out of the agreement? The only thing that dissolves it is if I violate the morality clause. Do you honestly believe that I've done that?" she demanded, furious that he could insult her this way.

"Oh no, I know you haven't. I've had you followed for months by a private investigator and he didn't find so much as a floo network infraction," he said off hand, reaching across the counter and taking a bite of her sandwich.

Astoria's hands began to shake, and Draco mistakenly took it for fear, pressing what he thought was his advantage.

"Of course, for the right amount of money, I'll find someone who says that they've been shagging you. There's no question that there are any number of blokes that would love to say they'd bagged Astoria Greengrass."

Astoria, who'd been trying to reign in her rage, was pushed over the edge. " _Try it_ ," she whispered, her words dripping with acid.

"What!?" Draco's mouth gaped unbecomingly as he regarded his wife, whom he thought he knew so well.

"I said try it," Astoria spat, standing and adopting the regal posture that came naturally. "I've never slept with another man in my entire _life_ , but I know damn well I'm not the only women you've been with – before, or after our marriage." As Draco's look of shock slowly turned to outrage, Astoria's face broke into a ghastly smile. "Oh yes, _love_ , I know all about the slags from the Leaky, and the high priced hookers that you charged to our personal account. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That I don't have people at Gringott's who are loyal to me? How silly can you be, you supercilious fool!?"

"Silly enough to have married an ungrateful bitch like you!" Draco spat. As the words left his mouth, Draco was thrust against the wall as if pushed by an unseen force. Hermione, who'd heard the last part of this exchange, had had enough.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you'd be so kind as to remove yourself from the household, I'd appreciate it. I believe Astoria has had enough of your particular brand of company, and it would be _wise_ if you packed your things and left. _Now_."

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you -!?" His words were cut off, his tongue beginning to protrude from his mouth as his breath left him violently.

"Who do I think I am?" Hermione asked pleasantly, her hand tightening into a fist as Draco's gurgling became a strangled hiss. "I think I'm a war hero, and if I tell the authorities that I walked in on a former Death Eater, laying hands on his wife, there isn't a soul in this country who wouldn't believe me."

She opened her hand, and Draco fell to the floor, gasping for air and moving as far away from Hermione as he could. "You see Draco, I seem to have lost all my patience for bigoted, feckless _men_ , especially those who treat women, and other creatures, like they're subservient. Leave, now, before I report you."

Draco stood, pulling down his shirt and vest, sweeping his hair out of his face as he snarled at the pair of women. Reaching into his pocket, he looked at them both, calculating.

"Try me, Draco. I'm begging you. Give me a reason to hex you into oblivion. I've been waiting for so, so long," Hermione murmured, a look of barely concealed excitement on her features. Astoria was watching the exchange, enraptured with the look on Hermione's face; simultaneously calm and terrifying. More entertaining, was the look of absolute betrayal and shame on Draco's face as he released his wand in his pocket, straightened himself up trying to regain what was left of his dignity before leaving the room.

Whirling around to face the hallway and the painting, Astoria saw Scorpius still engrossed in the book on genetics. Glancing at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, unable to see how he could have possibly missed that exchange, Hermione murmured, "Silencing Spell", with a slight shrug.

"Is he always that bad?" Hermione asked, adopting her best tutor's voice; again appearing unconcerned about the answer.

"Pretty much, though he was much better at hiding it in the beginning. Or perhaps he'd just conditioned me to believe that I'd deserved it. Either way, I woke up when Scorpius was born and he tried to manipulate him the same way he had manipulated me. I won't allow him to be used."

"I'm glad. He's remarkably smart," Hermione said, gesturing to Scorpius who closed the textbook he was reading, carefully avoiding any creases in the pages, and moved on to the next book in the stack she had left for him.

"Yes well, you may have been the brightest witch of _your_ age, but I was the brightest witch of mine," Astoria said with a wry, and slightly smug smile.

"Ah, that explains it then," Hermione said with a chuckle. "I knew he couldn't have got that bright eyed curiosity from his father. Draco was intelligent, but he had no… innocence, about him. That boy is full of wonder."

Eyes shining at the compliment, Astoria didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded in thanks.

"Have you never married?" Astoria asked Hermione, studying her. She was pretty enough to have attracted any suitor she wanted. Her brown curly hair was tamer than it had been in school, and her proficiency with glamour charms was clear. Someone had obviously given her style advice because, while plain, her clothing fit her remarkably well. "I thought I heard a rumor about you and Neville?"

Hermione smiled at this, remembering her time with Neville fondly. "No, Neville had certain… proclivities, that didn't suit my tastes and I had a few that didn't suit his. We're much better as friends."

Astoria couldn't help but be intrigued by this, but thought it rude to ask.

"Well, umm… thank you, for what you did with Draco. I could've handled him, but it was nice not to have to for once."

"Oh, please. I know you could have. I've been waiting for this since he first called me a mudblood in the courtyard at school. This was a long time coming, so I should be thanking you, for providing the opportunity."

With a bob of the head, Hermione turned and headed back to join Scorpius, leaving Astoria to mull over the idea of Hermione Granger and her proclivities.

OoOoO

Draco was in his room, throwing things just for the joy of watching them shatter. _That and they belong to my bitch of a wife. She doesn't deserve them_ , he thought bitterly. How dare they conspire against him? He was Draco _Malfoy_ for Merlin's sake, he deserved respect.

An idea striking him, he turned to the desk in the corner and began penning a letter. His maniacal smile grew with every word until he was practically vibrating with glee. The ink dry, he went to the open window, and whistled for his owl.

"Hello, old friend. Deliver this to the man who sees everything," he murmured, placing no address on the letter.

Chirping loudly and giving him an affectionate peck, the bird flew off into the night.

"We'll see who gets the last laugh Astoria," Draco muttered, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

OoOoO

The following day, Draco was sitting in his office, triumphant as he read the return letter.

 _Draco,_

 _I've found what you seek. Gregory Goyle was seen exiting Gringotts at the same time as your wife last week and I have pictures that've been… enhanced, to promote her guilt. Also, the amounts have been removed from your joint account, back dated to accommodate the doctored hotel reservations and portkey manifests. There's every appearance of infidelity here, and Goyle has been enticed and is willing to testify. He's been given access to the blood wards at the manor, and shall floo in at precisely 10 AM. He's assured me that he'll get Astoria in a compromising position for pictures._

 _Sincerely, T._

Draco could always count on Theodore Nott to get the job done. His job as a Ministry curse breaker left him with a plethora of unsavory contacts to procure elicit goods, be them liquid, or carnal. Thinking of enjoying both, he penned another quick letter and sent it, smiling as he pulled his finest bottle of Ogden's out of his safe and waited for his private floo to come to life. Not fifteen minutes later, his favorite shag walked into his room, naked under her trench coat.

"Get on the bed," he demanded, draining his cup and taking off his clothing.

"Right to business, Drake?" He grimaced at the use of the nickname. She was the only one who got away with using it.

"Sod off Pansy, I want to fuck."

"Well all right then, let's do this!" she said with glee, pulling him with her onto the bed.

OoOoO

Showered and thoroughly satisfied, Draco went to deliver his news to his bitch of a wife. He stopped in the library to see Scorpius, but he wasn't there. Curious, he cast a Homenum Revelio, and saw only two people in the master suite. _Granger must have taken the boy on one of her 'field trips' again_ , he thought, glancing at his watch and seeing that it was ten o'clock. _Right on time, eh Goyle? Gods, Theo never disappoints._

He took his time heading to their bedroom, thinking about how shagging Pansy in their marriage bed would give him such satisfaction. He looked at all the artifacts placed seemingly without care throughout the house, creating a mental tally of their worth as he walked.

Down the hall from their bedroom, Draco heard a moan and stopped in his tracks. _Well done, old chap!_ He'd never given Goyle much credit in school, owing to his generally blank expression and poor grades, but if what was going on in the next room was actually happening, he had to hand it to him.

Rushing forward, he pushed open the door.

Astoria was in the throws of passion, writhing her hips in a sultry circle, riding the cock inside her like it was a prized stallion, head thrown back in ecstasy as the person below rubbed her nipples between practiced fingers. Losing control of her rhythm due to the intense pleasure, she cried out as she lifted her hips and the cock below her pistoned in and out, thrashing her into a long, drawn out release.

Not done, her bed partner rolled her over, penetrating her again as they lifted her legs over their shoulders, placing their hands next to her head and leaning forward. It had the effect of allowing them to kiss, while deepening the angle and caressing her G spot.

Draco sat transfixed, as he realized that the evidence of her adultery was right in front of him. _What luck!_

But something was wrong with this picture. _Was that cock_ _blue?_ he thought to himself, trying to piece together what he was seeing. It wasn't until Astoria reached up and began to fondle a pair of breasts that were not her own, that Draco finally realized what was happening.

"Gr-Granger?" he sputtered with complete disbelief. Turning nonchalantly, Hermione kept up her pace, using the strap-on like a weapon, intent on Astoria's building orgasm. "Yes, Draco?"

"What the… What the fuck are you doing, shagging my wife!?"

"Satisfying her in ways you never could, I imagine," she said, reaching between them to brush Astoria's clit with her thumb, tumbling her over the edge, yet again. "Scratch that, I needn't imagine – that's number three."

"Number… what the _fuck_ is going on!?"

Climbing off of Astoria and handing the woman a robe, Granger began the process of getting dressed, checking her watch to be sure of the time.

"Astoria love, fix your hair – they'll be here any moment."

" _Who will be here_?" Draco shouted, his voice a screeching soprano.

"'Ello, 'ello! How's it going?" a voice said from the newly activated floo. Out of the fireplace stepped none other than Theodore Nott.

"Theo? What are you… What the _fuck_ are you doing here!? This wasn't what we discussed!" Draco sputtered with equal amounts of shock and outrage.

"Delivering some home made justice, old _friend_. Though, now that we're speaking of it, friends don't typically use blackmail to exact a favor. Good ol' Astoria here knows how to cultivate a friendship, with kindness, and helpful work contacts," he said, winking at her.

"Wh- what? Astoria – I have pictures of you with Gregory Goyle and he'll testify _in court_ , that you've been an adulterous bitch. So, looks like you're going to get your divorce, and I'm going to get the money. Who's laughing now, you conniving cunt?"

At that, both Hermione and Astoria started laughing. It started off as a slow roll, but built until they were both clutching their sides, fit to burst. Theo, who'd never missed the opportunity to join in on a good joke, barely contained his mirth.

"Oh they are, Draco. Believe me, they are."

"What the fuck do you _mean!?_ " Draco screeched, beginning to feel like he was losing this particular game of chess.

At that moment, the floo activated again and out stepped Pansy Parkinson. Looking back, Draco would know it was in this moment that he was buggered.

"Hello there, _Drake_. Have a good night?" she asked, waving an envelope at him from where she stood. She handed the envelope to Astoria, air kissing each of her cheeks, saying hello. More to his astonishment, she did the same to Granger.

"Wh-What the _fuck_ is happening right now?" Draco whispered, trying to get his mind around this sequence of events.

"What's happening, is that _I_ have evidence of _your_ infidelity, thus breaking the morality clause of your prenuptial agreement, rendering you dead broke. It also procures me the hasty divorce I've been dying for. So you see, I, will be the last one laughing, you arrogant _prick_."

Theo, Pansy and Hermione began whistling and applauding loudly. "But… but, you were shagging _Granger_ ," he spat, grasping at straws. "Surely that violates _your_ end of the morality clause _dearest_?"

Astoria's smile widened as she remembered that particular stroke of genius. Actually, if you'll remember the morality clause in our agreement, it specifically says that I can only violate the clause if I have sex with another _man_. I assure you, Hermione Granger is one hundred percent, pure, unadulterated woman," she finished with relish, reaching over to give Hermione a kiss.

"But… you were just as surprised as I was when the agency had her show up. How the _fuck did you pull this off!?"_ Draco's control was disappearing as it became clear that he was losing everything.

"Hermione and I have known each other for years, and we've been planning this for months. I was surprised, because we hadn't agreed that this would be when it went down – she wasn't supposed to show up for another week. It worked out in my favor though, because you never suspected a thing. Again, feckless git."

"That would be my doing, thank-you very much," Theo said, bowing. "I'd heard that Draco's P.I. had something planned because of Draco's incentive. I was worried he'd get them at any cost, ruining our plan."

"You! You're _in_ on this?" Draco demanded, whirling on his friend and bunching up his fist to strike. Simultaneously a group of ropes sprang out of thin air, binding Draco's arms tightly on both sides, immobilizing him.

"You really are getting good at wandless magic, love," Hermione said, stroking Astoria's back.

"I have an excellent teacher," she murmured, taking the time to kiss Hermione again.

Coughing loudly, Pansy waited. "Oh yes! Pansy had come to me after the latest blow off after one of your many elicit nights and said she'd had enough. She wanted to get back at you for always leaving her high and dry – "

"I see what you did there…" Theo said, putting his forefinger on his nose, then pointing at her.

She couldn't help but laugh as she continued. "It was then that we realized that she would be the perfect person to trap you in your own game. Willing to shag you one last time, she became the last piece to our elegant, and perfectly constructed puzzle."

"Welcome to real life Draco, where you're a pauper, and we're all kings!" Pansy said, lifting a glass of champagne she'd conjured out of thin air in salute.

"But… what about Scorpius? You used our _son_ for this?" Draco spat, disgusted.

"Oh, _now_ you care about your son," Hermione interjected, putting her hand on Astoria's arm.

Just then, the fireplace alighted yet again, and all of the adults in the room glanced at each other in confusion. Then, out of the flames stepped the boy in question.

"What about me _dad_? Hermione's been teaching me for months, and is the best tutor I've ever had. She's taught me more about life, and what those foolish pure blood traditions you keep going on about have done to our society, than you ever could, or would. Hermione makes mum happy, happier than she's ever been with you. Any part I could play in getting you out of here was worth it. Go. Away."

Stepping in front of his mother, who rested her hand on his shoulder, he reached back and grabbed Hermione's hand putting it on top of his mothers. He looked back at Hermione and nodded.

Hermione, reaching into her pocket, pulled out a tiny box, opened it and took the delicate filigree ring enclosed within and silently slid it onto Astoria's ring finger, her eyes never leaving Astoria's face. The question was never asked, the answer never spoken, but true love didn't need words.

The three people, now a family, turned to the bound and broken man on the floor and said in unison,

"Bye, Draco."

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	27. Some Things Go (Number 26)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Some Things Go** **(Number 26)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre:** **Romance/General**

 **Pairing:** **Tracey Davis/ Pansy Parkinson**

 **Trigger Warnings:** **Death & Mild Language **

**Beta Note: I want to thank Claireabellalou for brit-picking and helping me and snitches05 for honestly being the best beta I could have ever asked for. Thank you for putting up with my crazy sentences and horrible words choices. This OS wouldn't have been completed without you.**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Some Things Go**

* * *

If she was being honest, which isn't an everyday occurrence, Pansy knew that she was wasn't better than everyone else. Even broken down like an arithmancy question she still wasn't better. She was only prettier than a few other girls; eventually Millicent would grow into those curves whether she liked it or not and if Daphne wasn't a friend she would have hated her on sight purely on principle. Sure she was wealthy, but most of the Sacred 28 girls were 's what made them Sacred 28. Pansy was smart, but she was no Hermione Granger. She was probably a little too shrewd to get married to a man that liked her for

 _her_. She was told that men liked docile and obedient women. _Pliable,_ Pansy's mother used once. Unfortunately those were all qualities that she struggled with.

But _blood,_ that was something she could rub in the face of any respectable person in all of magical Britain. She was _pure,_ she was untouched by the mundane that the rest of the world was plagued with. Pure as magic itself.

That was what would get her a husband, that is what would secure her place in high magical society, that was the most important thing about Pansy Gwendolyn Parkinson.

At least that was what she had always been taught.

By yule of 7th year something had changed. When she alone, after hearing screams of school children and discipline that crossed over into blatant torture, Pansy began to question, _really question_ , how blood made her better. How did blood give them the right to snap wands, round up people like animals, or abuse children who hadn't done anything besides speak up?

Everything that she had been spoon-fed since infancy no longer was her shining beacon to base her self worth on. What would she be if she wasn't a pureblood? If she didn't have blood was there anything about her that was of any value at all? Was there anything in her worth saving?

She'd seen the bruises on Longbottom's face, the way he limped for days after detention with the Carrows. Blood-traitor or not, even being a pure-blood did not save you. Nothing would save you here.

Draco just wasn't the same, he should have been walking around Hogwarts like he owned it. Everyone knew it was him that let the Death Eaters in. He should of been every bit the arrogant slytherin prince that she knew he could be, but he was wasn't. She caught him several times, looking at the mark on his arm with a defeated look on his face. Like it was a curse _._ Daphne was too busy worrying over her little sister, and Blaise looked like he was a boggart away from catching the next floo to Italy and never be seen again. Vincent and Greg were enjoying themselves way too much torturing children. They were spared, the daughters and sons of Death Eaters and sympathizers, but they were not saved.

So now she spent her days with her mouth shut. The clever and cruel insults she'd thrown at the people she previously deemed _lesser_ than her suddenly seemed petty and meaningless. Pansy thought she was close with her friends. But not one of them noticed when she stopped being a bitch and started being scared. When the nightmares kept her from sleeping. When her appetite when from witch weekly-thin to downright sick. None of her friends noticed, but Tracey did.

"Alright there, Parkinson?" She heard a voice call as she sat curled up in one of dungeons large ornate arm chairs. The Slytherin common room was empty besides them.

Pansy didn't turn her face. "I'm just fine, Davis. Move along."

"I didn't see you at dinner."

"I haven't been feeling well"

"All week?"

With an exasperated huff Pansy turned in the chair to face Tracey Davis.

"Are you getting at something?" She eyed the girl warily. They didn't get along all that well despite being a small group of girls sorted together.

Tracey was a loner since her very first night at Hogwarts. She had no interest in their haughty blood purity sense of entitlement. And when the other girls found out she was raised as if she were a muggle, even though her mother was a ministry worker, they had practically crucified her. Pansy very much included.

The girl reached into her bag, then tossed Pansy a napkin tied into a bag.

"It's not anything much, just some fruit and bread from the kitchen."

"Is there any particular reason you're giving this to me?"

Tracey scoffed, hiking her bag higher up on her shoulder. "I thought the reason was quite clear. You need to eat it."

"On whose authority?" she said through clenched teeth. _Who did this girl think she was?_

Tracey just shrugged, as though she was bored with the conversation and walked towards the girls dormitories. Before she disappeared into the hallway she turned her head sideways speak. "The nutrition potion you've been taking is only a supplement. You have to eat something for it to work fully."

Pansy opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out but a strangled sound. She should be on her way to the dorms to find out who the hell had told that half-blood bitch that she was taking potions or make Tracey suffer immensely trying. She should be livid at being found out that someone would think that she was weak. She should be all of those things, but her hands were always blue because she could never get warm, her concentration was shit, she could barely sleep, and she missed her friends. By any definition she was weak.

So no, she didn't go press her wand into Tracey's throat. Instead she curled back up in the chair, untied the napkin that sat in her lap and took a bite of bread.

Later when she finally made it to bed, She could see that Tracey was still up. Her bed curtains slightly ajar reading by wandlight. Pansy turned her face away from the girl in an attempt to ignore her and got into her own bed until an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach that made her panicky, and she realized with disgust that it was _gratitude_ of all things. Before closing her curtains, she turned her head to the side.

"That bread you gave me was nearly stale. Maybe next time you can get something that doesn't cut my throat open going into my stomach." She laid back in her bed, hoping desperately that the girl didn't have a silencing charm up because if she had to repeat herse-

"You're welcome, Pansy." She finally heard Tracey call out. Pansy was unsure of why her mouth involuntarily curled into a small smile, but as she nestled down into her covers she couldn't help to think that this was the best she'd felt in a long time.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next night Pansy sat in the same chair from the night before. She had told herself that she wasn't waiting for Tracey to show up, but even she knew that was a lie. Just after midnight Tracey came into the common room, placing another package on Pansy's lap and sitting in the chair beside her.

Without a word, she opened the package carefully, her nose wrinkling in disgust when she found a piece of chocolate cake.

"Are you trying to make me a cow?" She asked, but Tracey just laughed beside her as she shook her head in disagreement.

"Trust me, you have a very long way to go before you need to worry about being a cow."

Tracey came again the next night, and again, and again until Pansy could tell when she was coming every night like clockwork. She didn't ask why she was out so late on weekends, but then again, she never asked how Tracey knew about supplement potions to even begin this weird tradition.

Eventually her appetite had returned. She could feel Tracey's eyes on her during meal times every now and then as she scribbled in her notebooks. But still every night they met, and every night Pansy would eat whatever she was brought and make snide comments about the quality of the food. Tracey would always smile when she was done eating, as if that was some type of major accomplishment. Pansy hated it, and she also hated the way Tracey smiling somehow made _he_ r smile.

As much as Pansy knew Tracey watched her, she looked for the other girl just as much. She wasn't sure when she starting look at Tracey, but Pansy knew she couldn't stop.

She had memorized they way her long wavy brown has always escaping her ponytail, and the way she rested her quill on her bottom lip when she was thinking. Tracey was beginning to occupy all of her thoughts. When she wasn't thinking about Tracey, Pansy was waiting for her show up so they could spend their few minutes alone together.

Pansy knew about obsessions and how they never helped anyone. So instead of meeting Tracey one night, she went to bed hoping that Tracey would get the hint and leave her alone, for both of their sakes.

"Pansy?" Tracey whispered outside of her bed. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just was feeling ill."Her bed curtain was pulled back slightly, showing Tracey's face illuminated by the light coming from window.

"Okay then. I'll set this right here." Pansy's heart had twisted when she heard the disappointment in Tracey's voice.

"Wait!" She called out before she could stop herself. "I- uh- Can you sit down for a second?"

Tracey's raised her eyebrows but said nothing and sat down folding her legs up on the bed.

"Can I ask, how did you know? About me? That I was…" Pansy gestured her hands about her, unable to come up with the word that completely encompassed what was wrong with her.

"You had this pale green discoloration, right here." Tracey grabbed her hands, turning them over to be palms up. She ran her fingers over Pansy's wrists . "It's a side effect from taking some potions together."

"Potions? You mean you knew about the -"

"Dreamless Sleep? Yes, I knew about that too."

Sighing, Pansy closed her eyes briefly, partly because she was tired of her secrets not being secrets, but mostly because Tracey was holding her hand. It felt every bit of good as Pansy had thought it would.

"I haven't been taking it as often, you know. You do help. Being with you..." She said quietly, tightening her hold on the other girl's hands.

Old habits still die hard, and there was a teeny flame of anger inside Pansy for whoever had told Tracey. It would eat at her if she didn't at least know who. So, she asked.

"No one had to tell me."

She opened her eyes to continue questioning Tracey but stopped when she noticed that her eyes were closed as well. Her hands were still holding onto Pansy's as she softly traced the lines in her palms.

"When I was ten my father was killed in front of me. I had nightmares for weeks on end until my mother took me to Mungos. But, being as taking Dreamless Sleep for too long makes your appetite go down, I stopped eating. That's when they put me on the Nutrition Potion, and I ended up with pretty green skin just like you had."

"I...I didn't know."

Tracey opened her eyes with a small smile of all things on her face. "Of course you didn't know. I didn't want anyone to know, Pansy. All of you nearly roasted me on an open fire when you found out about my muggle father! What would you have done if anyone of you had found out I was nearly comatose for a year just because I missed my daddy?"

Pansy didn't know, but she abruptly found herself cursing her cruelness when she was younger. When Tracey finally left her bed she was wishing that she didn't have to leave. _That was a mistake,_ she mentally chided herself noting that it wasn't to happen again. Expect, Tracey came back again the next night, and the night after that. What started off as sharing food with one another led to small parts of themselves being exposed to one another.

"You do know it was me that charmed all of your muggle nail polish to turn brown, right?" Pansy asked the one night all the while mesmerized at the sight of Tracey sucking ice cream off a spoon.

Tracey nodded. "Oh I know. Which is why I should probably tell you that's the reason why all of your textbooks had that permanent ink that read 'Future Mrs. Chosen One' last year."

"That was you?!" Pansy gasped. "The only person I told about that stupid crush during fourth year was Daphne! We argued for months about it."

"It was a very entertaining few months for me," she replied with mischievous shining eyes.

"It's just-, that was very-, I cannot believe that you-"

"It was very Slytherin of me, right?" Tracey asked.

"Exactly!"

Pansy sucked in her breath as Tracey leaned into her. Her heart began to thud, nearly wild against her ribcage. Yet, all Tracey did was take the pad of her thumb to wipe away a small bit of ice cream that had rested on Pansy's bottom lip.

"There are many things you can accomplish if everyone underestimates you."

Pansy sucked in her bottom lip, her face tingling where she had been touched.

"We leave for home tomorrow," Pansy whispered as if neither of them were aware of the fact.

"Yes, we do."

Pansy had the thought that she should say something. She used to have no problem giving people a piece of her mind, but she wasn't even sure what was on her mind. Surely it was just as lost as she felt. Before Pansy could put together anything coherent, Tracey swung her legs off the bed.

"Goodnight Pans."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Her anxiousness had reached an all time high by the time she got to the welcome feast. She hadn't seen Tracey on the platform, on the train, or at dinner. Pansy sat on her bed when midnight passed as she tried to not let the tears that had collected in her eyes fall out.

She was about to stop waiting and go to sleep when she heard a low groan coming from the other other side of the room. _That couldn't be... could it?_

She should of moved slowly, but her feet made loud slapping sounds as she walked quickly across the cold stone floor. Her hands paused before pulling back the curtain on her friend's bed. _Maybe you're imagining things_ , she tried to reason with herself, but her gut was telling her otherwise. As she breathed out, she moved the curtain back slowly, the scene hitting her all at once.

"Oh Gods!" Tracey was in her bed laying face down. She had ugly blue and yellow bruises that dotted across her back and cuts across her shoulders that had obviously just been healed.

As though she were the one in pain, Pansy whimpered, kneeling down, and brushed Tracey's fringe out of her face while her hand rested on Tracey's cheek.

At feeling her face being touched, Tracey stirred slightly, opening her eyes to see the other girl beside her. Her eyes occasionally blinked out tears, but still, no matter how much pain she was in, seeing Pansy put a smile on her face.

"Hey you. Don't be to mad at me, okay? I'm sorry I didn't get to bring you anything tonight."

"I don't care about the fucking food, Trace. What happened?!"

Tracey didn't think Pansy would care about the food, but she had to try. She moved herself to one side of the bed. "Get in and I'll tell you everything."

Pansy did not stop to think or process the _why_ or the _should she._ All she knew was that Tracey was in pain and need her. That was the only thing all that mattered.

"What happened?" she asked again softly.

"The Carrows happened. I came back early. My mum was so busy with ministry stuff she barely spent an hour with me. I was bored, missed my dad, and I- I missed you. So I came back and made the mistake of talking back when one of them made a comment about my dad. I know I shouldn't have, Pans, but I was just so _tired_ of it and-" Her voice broke off with sobs, and Pansy did the only thing she could do. She carefully wrapped her arms around the girl and let her settle against her chest.

"I know it was stupid, but I couldn't stop! And now, I'm paying for it."

Holding Tracey like this, all of her resolve to keep calm, to keep herself impartial to this looming fight became unraveled. There was only one thing now that weaved through her; holding on so tightly that it burrowed in her skin, her thoughts, her soul. She would get them out of this nightmare, or die trying.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Their nightly meeting no longer held any pretext of feeding Pansy or coy shy glances across the bed while they shared secrets. Each night they held one another, mostly talking, but definitely with the addition of occasional soft grazing of hands across skin. The feeling of being close lulling them to sleep each night.

"What do you want to do?" Pansy asked one night

"When I leave this place? I wanted to-. I'm _going_ to be healer."

Pansy, who was being held, turned in Tracey's arms to see her face to face with her already tipped nose crinkling in distaste. "A healer?"

"Yes, a bloody healer. You pureblood aristocrats are a funny bunch. Not everyone's ambition is stepped in self-interest, Pans. Not everyone can take over the world."

Pansy scoffed. "Of course not, but being selfish is a human trait, not just a Slytherin one. I just didn't imagine you'd want to take over St. Mungo's, that's all." Being this close to Tracey was an odd thing, she mused internally, the type of odd thing you didn't think you'd mind doing for the rest of your life.

"The magical world is so much bigger than Britain, Pans. The world itself is bigger than magic. I want to see every major city in the United States. Maybe go to Mexico to visit ruins. I heard there are white beaches in Greece, and mountains in Poland, and beautiful festivals each year in India."

She had then thought Tracey was talking right mad but-, but she looked so amazing when her face lit up as she spoke in hushed tones about the world. Pansy believed every word of it, and her heart felt full thinking that she would be the one to experience all of those moments with her.

"And what about after?"

"After?"

"Yes, after you see the world."

"After I'll settle down. Maybe in Italy- that's where my Dad was from. Somewhere close to the water, but not too close. Maybe have a tiny vineyard that I'll look after during my days off from being a healer. "

"It sounds like a nice life." Despite their cuddling each night there was still a barrier that they had never crossed. It was like Pansy could feel a small part of herself changing each time they lay together, while another part of her begged to get up, to leave the bed before it was too late, and she changed forever. As loud as that part of her was, it never won. She never left and now was somehow desperate for more.

"But- Is there not _one_ thing you selfishly desire?" She asked trying to ignore how breathy she sounded.

"There is one thing that I very selfishly desire. More than I should." Tracey's voice was warm and low and made her heart putter unnecessarily. When she felt her fingers ghost across her collarbone and up the back of her neck to play with her hair, she had to bite her lip to make sure that any sounds didn't prematurely escape her mouth.

"You're very confident in being a healer," she noted. "Why not this?"

Tracey let out a humorless low laugh. "I am very sure in my want. I'm just very unsure if I should take the risk."

There was no part of Pansy that thought she was brave, strong, or courageous. But, she couldn't have denied the small roar in her chest as she moved in closer to Tracey on the bed. Their bodies pressed against each other as she let her hand curl around Tracey's exposed hip.

"Some risks are worth taking," she whispered as she finally lowered her mouth and claimed the other girl's lips.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The Easter holidays had approached a lot quicker than either of the girls anticipated, sending Pansy back to her mother and a promise made from Tracey that she would stay home the entire time no matter how much she missed her.

She almost felt normal bickering with her mother about decorations for her annual garden get together for Easter. Not having to spend her days with her mouth shut tightly, mentally chanting "I'm better than them, better, better, better", had done wonders for her mental well being. Then again, she wasn't entirely sure it was being back in her childhood home that had put her in such a better mood

Pansy wandered around her home, she could hear the small pop of apparation's of the house elves throughout the manor as they moved tables to the garden on her mother's request. She found Dahlia Parkinson in the dining room for her afternoon meal.

"Pansy? You slept through the whole morning, _again_? I know you love to be lazy, but you are going to have a horrid time putting yourself back on a schedule when you get back to school."

Pansy _hmm-_ ed without commitment while taking a seat down from her mother. Maybe if she could just mention to her mother that she didn't want to return back to school. Maybe she could grab Tracey from her home and they'd never have to set foot back in that castle again.

"And I know you were all set on wearing that pale yellow shift dress, but we are not Hufflepuffs, dear. I had Zabney make sure the mint green dress robes were properly pressed and put in your closet. With all that's going on, now is not the time to deviate from our important values."

Pansy nodded. "Of course, Mother," she nearly whispered, taking a few pieces of fruit.

"And I know you said that you no longer had eyes on the Malfoy boy-"

"Mother, I-" Pansy attempted to interrupt but it was unnoticed.

" -Although, what you could have _possibly_ done to have a falling out with him is _beyond_ me, Pansy. I made certain that you've been friends since you were in nappies. Thankfully, there are a few eligible young wizards left. You aren't completely without reprieve at least."

"Yes, Mother. However-"

"Many of their mothers will be attending. Nothing but the very best etiquette. If the mother doesn't like you, well then-"

"Mother!"

Startled, Dahlia finally looked up from her lunch and focused on her daughter for the first time since entering the room. "Why are you raising your voice like that, Pansy? Completely unbecoming. Have you forgotten everything I've ever taught you? Ladies are -"

"Seen, not heard." Pasny finished for her mother. "I haven't forgotten anything. I-, uh, I don't think I want to go back."

Dahlia blinked, unsure of what her only daughter meant. "Go back where?"

"Back to Hogwarts. Mother, things are- "

"Better." Her mother cut her off, eyes changing into the horrible analyzing glare that Pansy knew all too well. "Things are overwhelming better at Hogwarts now that Headmaster Snape is in charge. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mother. But-"

"But what, Pansy?!"

 _But I'm not sleeping anymore; But children are being hurt; But everything I've ever been taught is suddenly very wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But I'm worried that the only person that has ever loved me for_ _ **who**_ _I am and not_ _ **what**_ _I am is going to end up a second class citizen because she had a muggle for a father. But, but, but._

"Would it better if we had another muggle-loving fool in charge of our children's future like Dumbledore?"

"Of course not, Mother."

"Oh, Salazar Pansy, if your father could just hear you speak. Forsaking everything he worked on, what he _died_ for! I don't believe I have ever been more disappoint-"

"Mother, Please! I'm just bored, that's all. I swear." Pansy said, determined. She should have known better than to bring this up to her mother.

"You're….bored?" Her mother said, clearly confused.

"Of course I am." Pansy smiled brightly and giggled falsely into her napkin. "We only have a few months left. We've been doing nothing but review for our NEWTs. Me and the girls try to keep busy of course, but there are only so many times you can plan the perfect wedding. I guess I was a little anxious to be done with formal education."

"Oh. Yes, of course you are." Her mother's face had visibly relaxed, the hand that had clenched itself around a fork had loosened. Pansy noticed _her_ hands were trembling.

"Zabney!" Her mother called, a second passed before their house elf appeared with a small pop.

"Place a calming draught in my room. I'm suddenly not feeling well." And she got out of her chair and left the room without another word to her daughter.

Without her lover's soft skin or warm words to keep her distracted, Pansy's nightmares returned that night.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

May 2, 1998

If anyone had noticed the difference in the way the two girls interacted, they didn't bother mentioning it. They began sitting together during meals and all of their classes. Pansy also would consistently stay up in one of their beds until Tracey arrived back to the dorms each evening. She once asked what Tracey was up to that caused her to always so get in so late, only to be kissed so hard that she forgot the question entirely.

Pansy sat in Potion's class planning the best course of action for after school. She would have approximately a month, maybe two, before her mother started playing the dreaded matchmaker. They needed to get their apparation licenses. Technically she was already head of house when she turned 17, but she didn't get unrestricted access to the Gringotts account until she was married. Maybe that would change, but it would take her mother changing the bylaws of the account. She could get enough gold for possibly 6 months if she withdrew her maximum allowance , possibly-

"Excuse me, students. It seems that we are to be gathered in the Great Hall at this moment." Slughorn's voice carried throughout the small classroom. Pansy glanced at Tracey to see if maybe she knew what was going on, but Tracey was too busy looking at some sort of golden coin resting her hand.

In the Great Hall, Headmaster Snape began to question the students on their knowledge of the whereabouts of Harry Potter, telling all of them that they would not be punished if they knew where he was hiding. The hall began to break out into low excited murmurs.

 _Harry Potter?_ Pansy questioned. _He hasn't even been to school all year_. Just then out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She opened her mouth to scream but a sharp yank on her arm from Tracey told her that was a bad idea as she shook her head vigorously.

 _What the hell is going on?!_

"There! He's right there! Someone grab him!" She heard Daphne screamed while holding on to her sister. Her cries set into motion a series of events that happened in quick succession. Headmaster Snape stalked towards the Gryffindors with his wand raised only to be stopped by Professor McGonagall. Their duel pushed the entire present student body against the wall until he disappeared with a loud crack.

Eventually the Slytherins were escorted down to the dungeons by McGonagall herself.

"I know that many of you think you don't have a choice in this battle, but you do. Standing passive against this aggressive oppression means you might as well be committing it yourselves." The woman had said, and with that she turned down the corridor to get back to where the fight was going to begin.

Everyone had gathered in the common room mostly sitting down for what must of been an hour. Pansy wondered if Professor McGonagall really expected them to fight and quite possibly against their fathers, uncles, and cousins? Fight against everything they were ever taught was right, no matter how wrong it sounded?

Maybe she did expect them to fight, but Pansy already knew that not a single one of them would. She went back to her room and started throwing her most important things in a bag. She had wanted to wait until after school to disappear, but this? This changed everything. They had to leave now before the Dark Lord took over Hogwarts. A bunch of school children could not possibly be a match for him and his Death Eaters. Not with the stories she had been told and heard.

Pansy began to run through the her plan again. _Get to Hogsmeade, and then maybe the Knight Bus-?_

"Did you mean it?"

She took a sharp break from throwing things into her bag. "Grab your things, Tracey. We're leaving right now," she stated turning back to her task. _Maybe Gringotts would look past her taking out more than her allowance. She still had to convert the money to muggle currency which would be a pain in the arse but-_

"Did you mean it?" Her girlfriend pushed again.

"The plan is a little mad, but I think we can do this. You know a lot about muggles, and you know I'm a quick study."

"You said, the first the time we kissed, that some risks were worth taking. Did. You. Mean. It?"

Pansy finally stopped flitting around the room to stare at Tracey who was still holding on to the same golden coin from earlier.

"Of course I meant it."

"Then I'm going to ask you to take a risk and come fight."

"What?" Pansy reared back like she had just been slapped. "Are you fucking serious?!"

Tracey nodded somberly. "I know this is a lot to ask of you, but Pans you said some risks-"

"Yes, Tracey! I did say _some_ risks. The risk of my reputation. The risk of being blasted off my family tree. The risk of never seeing my mother or cousins again. Gods, the risk of leaving everything I've ever known to live happily with _you_. To runaway with _you_!" Pansy could sense her heart starting to crush. The telling sting behind her eyes was an all too familiar indicator that she had started to cry.

"What you're asking of me for isn't a risk. It's suicide. Please don't do this. Think of yourself. Tracey, think of us."

"I am thinking of us. Do you really think we'll be able to outrun your mother, death eaters, or the Dark Lord himself?!"

Pansy couldn't stop the hysterics from happening this time. Chest heavy with pressure, she was sure that eventually she would collapse in on herself.

"I love you, Tracey." She begged one last time. "Please." Pansy felt her hair brushed back and a soft tender kiss placed on the side of her face.

"I know you do, Pansy. Which makes this absolutely difficult," and with that, Tracey disappeared out of their room.

Pansy was unsure of how long she sat on her bed crying. It could've been hours or minutes, but eventually her mind caught up with what her heart already knew. Tracey was out there; she needed her and to Pansy that was all that mattered.

Her feet carried her faster than she ever thought was possible, and in no time she was near the Great Hall. As she turned the corner, she regarded Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Tracey battle two Death Eaters, whose backs were to Pansy. She felt as if she could do nothing in this bolloxed situation but the long black robes made things so much worse. They brought forth a torrent of images from her childhood she'd long ago trained her mind to forget. The one the closest to Pansy raised their wand in Tracey's direction, and her heart began to race.

"Stupefy!" she screamed at the person's back, only mildly horrified as they fell to the ground. The other Death Eater turned towards her. Their face was covered by an iconic silver mask, but the anger that radiated of off them as they advanced towards her was clear.

"You little bitch!" the gruff voice spat out with his wand raised only to be hit in the back multiple times and crumpled to the floor. Pansy was shaking as the Death Eater fell and looked up right into Tracey's eyes.

"You came."

"I did." Tracey walked forward as she took Pansy into her arms and kissed her deeply.

Someone cleared their throat behind them abruptly ending their tender moment.

"I told you she'd come, Nev!" Tracey said beaming.

"That's great, but right now isn't exactly the time..."

"Right. Let's go save the world or whatever it is that you all do," Pansy said grabbing Tracey's hand and turned toward the others.

Suddenly there was rustling behind them, and then a scream of "Avada Kedavra!" All four of them turned as the curse sailed straight towards Pansy. She felt several things in the time frame of what could have only been seconds. The feel of Tracey's hand slipping out of hers, the rough shove that push her on her arse, and the undeniable sensation of her heart breaking as she watched in horror as the dreaded killing curse hit Tracey square in the chest.

"No!"

"Diffendo!"

"Incacarous!"

"Flipendo Tria!"

As Tracey fell stiff to the floor all three curses hit the Death Eater simultaneously. Chest slashed open, bound, he flew harshly through the air until his head hit the ceiling and crashed back down. The others turned back towards a convulsing Pansy who was kneeling over Tracey's dead body. Ginny could barely make out the garbled words that were being obscured by her pained cries.

"You guys go. I'll get her and Tracey to the Great Hall." Neville and Luna looked unsure but nodded ran down the hall.

She kneeled down next to Pansy. "We should get her with the others. It isn't safe out here yet. More could be coming."

Pansy shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Let them come. Maybe they'll kill me too!" She howled.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes I do, Weasley! I mean it more than anything. She shouldn't be dead! She had plans, dreams. She wanted to _help_ , for Merlin's sake. And, I'll… I'll still be the same coward that I was before I loved her."

By the time the Battle was over, Ginny scanned the Great Hall for Pansy but she had disappeared. Molly saw that her daughter was looking around and asked her what could possibly be wrong other than her brother being dead, her boyfriend coming back to life, and the castle being in ruins.

"Nothing's wrong, Mum. I'm just ready to go home," she said. Ginny had already set in her mind that she had an important letter to send.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

19 Months Later

Ginny didn't want to go to the Louvre, honestly, but her muggle-born teammate Anna said it was just _one of those things_ that you had to do before you died. She didn't understand really how standing around a bunch of muggles looking at old muggle paintings counted as one of those things, but she wasn't going to argue with the girl especially since the since the team building exercise could have been matching tattoos. So here she was at 7am on a bloody Monday looking at pictures that didn't even move.

"We'll see the Mona Lisa last since everyone wants to see her. The crowds are always outrageous, and there are tons of other exhibits equally as exciting," Anna said as she lead the group up towards a flight of stairs. Ginny was dragging her feet towards the back of the group. Before they went up the steps, out of the corner of her eye, she had seen a girl turn down another hallway. Ginny only caught the side of her face but the random girl looked so much like -.

Before she could stop herself, she'd broken off from the group and began to follow the girl down the hallway, making a mental note about how creepy she was being and wondered if she could still use her breakup with Harry six months ago as a claim for temporary insanity when she got arrested for stalking.

The girl walked with no clear purpose, as she glided passed artifacts and pots, when she came across a painting she did a double take, and then stood in front of the painting with her head tilted, long black hair covering her face. Ginny watched as the girl the lifted a muggle camera and clicked.

 _Oh,_ Gin thought, _that can't be her. She wouldnt possibly have a -._ The girl lowered her camera, and Ginny gasped and couldn't stop herself before saying "Pansy?!"

The girl turned and yes, it _was_ Pansy same face that she hadn't seen in over twelve months.

"Ginevra." She said with a smile on her face.

"It's just Ginny, actually. Although I appreciate the restraint on not calling me 'Weasley'"

Pansy laughed. An honest to Merlin laugh and Ginny felt struck dumb.

"You're welcome. I heard you made the Holyhead Harpies. Congratulations."

"Thank you. It's been wonderful." She should've let this moment go; to wish Pansy well and go their separate ways, but she couldn't.

"Pansy, where have you been? You stopped answering my mother said you weren't in. I've been so worried."

Ginny could see that she was uncomfortable as she played with her camera straps. "I've been traveling. I'm sorry I just left so abruptly, but I just couldn't take it anymore. That house or my mother." She said with a small shrug. "So I just left. I haven't been home since February."

February sounded about correct. That was the around the same time that she stopped responding to Ginny's owls.

"Where have you been?" Ginny asked, but she could see that it wasn't around Europe's pale winter. Pansy was tan and filled out her muggle clothes quite nicely.

"Everywhere! I went to Poland, then to the United States. It was weird. Everyone spoke English but almost everything had new names. Completely useless."

Ginny smiled through Pansy's stories. An orphanage in the Dominican Republic, magic festivals in Thailand, building homes in Taiwan. She still couldn't believe this was the same girl she'd seen last that refused to leave her bed. The same one that begged for death than be without the person she loved. Even more disbelief that it was same girl that did nothing but be cruel towards her and her friends years prior.

"Do you want to get dinner later?"

"I would love to...But I'm not done with...whatever it is that I'm doing. And I don't think it's a good idea until I'm done. I think I'll be done, soon. After that I'm going back to England."

Ginny nodded. Everyone grieved and moved on and grew in different ways. "You'll owl me then? When you get back?"

"You'll be the first." Pansy said, smiling.

"I should go find the others then. I'm really glad you're okay." She backed up from Pansy, ready to let her go, at least until she was ready to let someone back in. She just had had one more question.

"Can I ask where you're going next?"

"Just one more stop. Italy."

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	28. Ballad (Number 27)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Ballad** **(Number 27)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre:** **Angst, Hurt/Comfort**

 **Pairing:** **Hermione Granger/George Weasley**

 **Trigger Warnings:** **Alcohol, Driving Under the Influence, Loss, Angst, Depression**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Ballad**

* * *

 _Dear George,_

 _Just wanted to send one last postcard!_

 _The weather has been wonderful and the ocean is_

 _absolutely beautiful._

 _I'll be home on the 20_ _th_ _, can't wait to see you!_

 _LOVE -H_

* * *

George looks at the at the front of the postcard. It has an overused picture of the sun sinking into the ocean, 'Greetings From …' wherever the hell she was, stamped over the silhouette of a palm tree. He reads the back one more time, looks at the calendar, and rips the postcard to pieces and throws them towards the bin. It's the 20th, "she'll be home tonight" he mumbles to himself, "whatever."

* * *

Hermione sings softly as the plane cuts under the clouds. The woman next to her smiles and looks out the window, "beautiful day to fly, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Hermione states cheerfully.

The woman's smile broadens, "you must be heading home to someone."

"I am" Hermione sighs, and she knows that anyone who has heard her can tell just how much she loves that someone.

* * *

George slams the door on his way out and rolls his shoulders back, head high and face set. He walks along of the side of the road, nodding at everyone who drives by. Town isn't far, or at least the small shop at the edge of town isn't. George shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling the crumpled notes and heavy coins, "just enough," he thinks.

* * *

Hermione walks out of the airport, suitcase rolling behind her and purse tucked under her arm. She takes a deep breath, savors the smell of damp and earth mixed with motor oil and wet asphalt. Her heart swells and presses against her chest, "home," she thinks and grins, turning her face to the sky. It's overcast and she shivers as the occasional raindrop hits her cheek, but it doesn't break her smile.

* * *

George leans against the car hood. Bottle heavy in his hand, though significantly lighter than when he started his walk home. He purposefully avoids looking at the sky, "what she loved most about living outside the city," his thoughts betray. The moon and the stars, away from the pollution and memories. "A fresh start," he lets out a snort and takes a long slow drink from his bottle. He takes another until the last drop splatters on his tongue. The empty glass clinks loudly in the dark as he steps around the car and opens the door, "a quick drive, I'll be fine." He fumbles to put his key in the ignition but finally the car roars awake.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione's cheer is evident.

Harry grins, and embraces the women he has been friends with for ages, "how was your holiday?"

"Really excellent," she says, "but I'll be glad to be home." Harry loads her suitcase into his car and opens the door for her. They talk back and forth for the long ride, catching up on each other's lives. Hermione's excitement is contagious, and a few tears escape when Harry bids her farewell. Their reunions have become few and far between, "this one car ride won't change that," he thinks and watches her disappear in his rearview mirror.

* * *

The car runs over the curb and parks haphazardly in back of the house. George kills the engine and sits in the dark, breathing hard, hands pressed into his temples. "Driving was a bad idea," he says into the night.

He walks to the door, tripping on the last step, and lets himself into the house. The kitchen light is on and the clock says it's nearly 3 a.m., which means it absolutely is 3 a.m.

* * *

Hermione sits at the kitchen table, she glances at the clock once again and then at the phone.

She had known George wasn't home the second Harry dropped her off. She had walked into the hall and catalogued the house, the hall mirror was gone. She suspected that the rest of the mirrors in the house were also gone, or covered, or broken in pieces at the bottom of a bin. She lets a tear drop off her chin, he hadn't mentioned this, she would've come home earlier.

So, Hermione sits down at the kitchen table, bags still in the hall, and she waits.

* * *

George stumbles in, leans harshly in the doorway, hand holding onto the trim. He stares at the floor, exhausted he sputters, "I'm sorry."

Hermione rises, knees cracking, she smiles softly and walks to her partner, "what for?"

George meets her eyes, and he collapses onto her. Sobbing heavily, Hermione helps him to the floor and cradles him against her. She brushes the long unkempt hair back along the side of his head, "I should not have been gone for so long," she whispers to him. His hair falls back to its previous position without anything to hold it back. He heaves deep breaths, the occasional agonizing sound escapes, and he curls into himself. Her has told her, that it feels like a gaping hole, a vortex, pulling at where his heart once was. There is no filling that hole, just lessening its pull on him, anchoring him so that the rest doesn't get pulled away.

Hermione lifts his head. His cheeks are wet and blotchy red, snot as gathered above his lip and smeared across his face. She leans in and kisses each eye. "I love you," she says. And she says it again, and again until he looks her in the eye and nods ever so slightly.

"I'm yours and that's it, forever" she pushes all of her love towards him, she knows he can see it when she looks at him. She knows he can feel it as she pulls him to lay beside her on the dirty kitchen floor. She presses full against him, brings his arms around her waist, and tucks her head under his chin. His crying has stopped, he breathing now smooth. His hand comes to life on her hip and grips the soft flesh there, making an anchor.

"You're mine and that's it, forever."

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Constructi** **ve Criticism and love, cookies are nice.**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	29. Alone Inside My Head (Number 28)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Alone Inside My Head** **(Number 28)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre:** **Romance**

 **Pairing:** **Rubeus Hagrid/Luna Lovegood**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Alone Inside My Head**

* * *

Hagrid stood in front of the roaring fire in his hut, gazing intently into the flames. His heart had flames of its own dancing within, a burning yearning to break free, to achieve release. She had sparked the flame within him many years ago now but his fire grew brighter, stronger everyday that she was in his life. They had developed such an unique bond over the years and had a friendship unlike any Hagrid had ever experienced before. She invigorated him. He was not a young man but by wizard standards and half giants for that matter, he wasn't old either. But that didn't seem to faze her. She owled him almost daily and when they were together it was like they were two old friends who had grown up together even though there were many years between them. But that was also the problem; they were friends. Just friends. He loved her and cherished her. He anxiously waited each time they were going to meet so that he could see her again. Every time she would invite him along on her travels around the world discovering and studying new magical creatures, his soul would ignite.

Over the years, there were many instances were he thought she might have feelings for him too. When she would touch his arm ever so softly and whisper in his ear. When she would laugh at something he said or did and told him he was adorable. He had never been told he was adorable before. "That must mean something!" he thought to himself as he continued to stare down into the fire. She told him on occasion that she loved him but she told Harry and Neville that she loved them too. They spent so much more time alone together than she did with any of her other friends. She would stay the night frequently, mostly because after spending hours and hours talking passionately about this that and the other, she would pass out at his table or on his couch. He would always cover her and make sure she was comfortable. There was even once that she had slept in his bed! He could still remember the smell of her hair and the way the bed felt with her in it with him. It has felt so lonely ever since that night. He had difficulty sleeping because his mind always wondered to that night. He had run a hand along her body. So small beneath his hands but she felt so…perfect. He nuzzled his head into her hair and inhaled deeply. She settled in more snuggly against him and his heart beat rapidly against his chest. His mind had been racing. She wasn't pulling away from him. In fact she had moved closer. He had taken a deep breath and wrapped his arm around her waist and waited to see how she would react to the gesture and, when she clasped her hand around his he exhaled slowly and his heart sored high above the hut and into the heavens.

She fell asleep there in his arms, holding his hand. Her breathing light and steady as she slumbered. Hagrid, however, was wide-awake as he looked at the woman lying in the bed with him. His mind had been racing about what this might mean but eventually his eyes drifted closed and his thoughts of what this might mean transformed into dreams. Vivid. Erotic. Magical dreams. In his dream, they had been lying there together but instead of falling asleep, she had placed a kiss on his hand, waiting to see if he would jerk his hand away. When he did not and instead held her tighter, she began to trail kisses along his arm as she slowly turned in his embrace to face him and gaze into his deep, almost black eyes. The light of the dying fire was dancing in his eyes and while never breaking eye contact; she tilted her head up and kissed him tentatively. Hagrid didn't hesitate a moment to return the kiss. Before she could pull away he had lowered his head to meet the kiss. The dream had moved quickly from there. He could feel himself growing hard at the memory of it. Their kissing had turned into frenzied hands roaming one another's bodies, passionately kissing each other anywhere their lips could get to. She had run her hands down his chest until she reached the base of his shirt and began to lift it above his head. She paused for a moment to admire him before she removed hers as well. She had been with out a bra and so the moment her shirt left her body, her breasts were exposed to him in all their beauty. Her skin in the night appeared to be almost transcendent; a heavenly vision of luminous white against the blackest night. He reached out and gripped her waist pulling her back to him. He could feel her perfect breast pressed against his bare chest as he lowered his head to kiss her deeply and passionately.

As Hagrid reminisced on his dream, he was not fully aware that he had removed his growing erection from the confines of his trousers. His eyes closed, he began to stroke himself slowly. Visions of her naked body and his wrapped around each other flooded his memory as he began to stroke faster. Her face when she saw him, all of him for the first time. He was no fool. He knew from experience that most women when they saw him would change their minds. The idea of being with a man his size is appealing in the abstract he supposed but, when it came down to it, panic at the thought of actually doing it set in. But not with her, not in his dream, she looked at him with no judgment in her eyes. She looked him, all of him and instead of gaping at his size; she inched closer and took it into her small warm hands. Hagrid groaned at the thought of the touch as he picked up his pace. She was supposed to be coming over tonight and this was not how he wished her to find him. He grasped tighter around his member as he began to pant. She was straddling him in the bed. Her milky thighs wrapped around him as she slowly lowered herself on to him. In his dreams was where this would stay, he knew this but how he hoped one day it could be. He had spent the last few years feeling as if he was living alone inside his head with the future he hoped he could have with her.

Pumping his fist harder his thoughts drifted back to his dream. Of her, straddling his waist and cupping his face in her hands tilting it up to stare into her grey eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Like the silver twinkling stars. The gazed intensely into each other eyes before she leaned down kissed him lightly and whispered, "I love you Hagrid, I want you" as she fully immersed herself onto him. He had awoken that morning with his member pressed against his trousers and her back and he knew with great sorrow that she could never share his bed again. What if she had waken up?! What if she knew what he had dreamt of? But oh the gloriousness of the dream! Her small frame thrusting up and down on him as she moaned out his name as she approached her climax. He was quickly reaching his own as he continued to stroke his cock with vigor. His legs went rigid as he rose up onto the balls of his feet and came, throwing his head back moaning out "OH LUNA!"

Just as he finished he heard the door of his cabin open and there she stood in all her beauty. Hagrid, still coming down from his high had not yet realized that she was in fact standing before him. Before he could speak however, Luna stepped closer, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Hagrid I- er- Could I…" She locked eyes with him and exhaled a long slow breath and stepping so that she was right in front of him. "Hagrid I saw you there through the glass and well, this was not how I imagined it but…I –I want you Hagrid, I love you." Hagrid did not move. "This must still the dream" he thought to himself. But then she reached out and gently slid her hand down his face, holding it against his cheek. She rose on her tippy toes and pressed her lips against his. There first real kiss. He closed his eyes and let the moment consume him. All embarrassment was gone. She did not care. All she cared about was being there with him and for the first time in his life he wasn't alone inside his head, he was here, holding her, kissing her and she loved him.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Constructive criticism welcome as well as positive notes**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	30. When Harry Wed Jimmy ? (Number 29)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **When Harry Wed Jimmy?** **(Number 29)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: PG**

 **Genre:** **Comedy, hints to m/m**

 **Pairing:** **Dudley Dursley/Luna Lovegood**

 **Trigger Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **When Harry Wed Jimmy?**

* * *

There was a knock on the door, another knock, "Yeah, I'm coming, hold yer horses will ya!" He said walking over and opening the door to his flat, "Hullo….. wait, Harry?"

"Dudley, hi! I need to talk to you, kind of important, could I..?" Harry said, looking a bit nervous as Dudley opened the door to see him there.

"Yeah, yeah, course mate" he said, stepping aside then looking to see if anyone else saw.

"Wars over, remember, all safe Dudley, you alright?" Harry gave a short laugh, trying to reassure his cousin that there wasn't a crazy psychotic killer chasing him anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, What'd ya need Harry?"

"Well, I'm not sure, I just, I've got a problem, and …"

"What? You just said! You just said that war was over!" Dudley started to yell, panic starting to show in his face.

"I'm getting married, and you need to be there.." Harry explained

"What?" Dudley asked, confusion over his face. 'Married, was that legal over in the wizarding world, did they have different legal rulings.' he thought to himself, not wanting to ask his cousin.

"Married. In a month, and I need you to be there. You are my only family, and need you to be there for part of the ceremony, honestly. All you need to do is just show up, show up, say yes and have some dinner, drinks and go home."

"Wait, you are getting married in a month and you just found out you need me to be there?" He said, a giving a slight pause before he added on, "So, what's the name? That one from school?"

"Yeah, wizarding ritual and all, need a family member to confirm who I am, or something or other, not really sure. Yes, we met at school. Ginny, absolutely great, best person in the world for me, knows me inside and …."

"Harry, got it, got it, you and Jimmy, really close, no need for further info, really. Got the date and where, what will I need to wear? None of those crazy dresses, right?"

"Yeah, Ginny, um, yeah, got the card, er invite right here, can drop it back in the post and it'll let us know what you want to eat, stuff like that. Think my mate Ron might be planning some kind of guys night, really not sure about it, that'll be about a week or so before, Hermione said something to Ginny about not the night before the wedding, so now that's all been changed. Crazy, all this wedding stuff, and they are robes Dudley, robes, not dresses."

"Keep telling yourself that Harry, dresses, they look like dresses, will I need to.."

"No Dudley, just a good, nice suit will work. Would you like to come to the night out with a bunch of us, up to you, Ron's planning it, better be good, we had a great time at his, but since it's Ginny I'm marrying, siblings and all, I'm sure it won't be as crazy, doesn't want to cross Ginny."

"Ugh, yeah sure, when's it and I'll see if I can make it, somewhere I can get to or.."

"Yeah, just in London he said, the muggle, er, the normal, respectable, person side, of the city."

"Sure Harry, I'll try, going to see some girls, er, not going to be …"

"Yeah, nothing like that, I think Ginny made'm swear to not do any strippers for my party, who knows, maybe they'll just combine to both parties, I think Hermione mentioned something about that, maybe just go to a few bars…" Harry finished, feeling a bit uncertain, "So, well, I'll be going then, I'll um, see you later then Dudley?"

"Yeah, sure Harry, I'll be there for the thing, then I'll be there for the wedding to Jimmy." He said, walking Harry over to the door, and letting him out.

"You don't need to bring this up to Uncle Ver.."

"Not going to tell him a word of it Harry, I don't need to hear him go on and on, he doesn't know we started talking again. Don't need to tell him about you and Jimmy, I'll see you later, get some rest mate, you really look a little worse for wear." he said as he shook his head and shut and locked the door behind him, with Harry on the outside.

"Jimmy, eh, whatever makes'm happy and stays with the blokes on his normal side of London." Dudley said mumbling to himself, only half glancing at the invitation that Harry had handed him, taking only note of the day, marking it on his calendar, simply as H-2p. If his mum stopped over, didn't need her to know and mention it to dad either. He hard a hard enough time with Harry being a wizard, but add on marrying a bloke, that might send him really off the edge.

A few weeks passed and it was the night to go get some drinks at the bar. He wasn't even sure he wanted to go, though he figured if it was really crazy and just blokes and more of them, he could just leave and Harry wouldn't know. He got to the door and walked in, taking a seat next to the bar. Ordering a drink he payed and sat there a moment, looking around. He could hear a loud crowd in a separate room just off the main bar, he figured that was where the party was. Harry sure had a lot of friends, or Jimmy did if they were all having a party, the only voices he could hear were male. Oddly enough it seemed, the main room was mostly inhabited by females, 'they must be the girlfriends of the guys in the other room', he thought to himself. He finished his drink, and when the bartender came back around he ordered another. When the glass made it's way back to him, there was a soft voice to his side,

"Is anyone sitting here" The voice asked, "I'm not sure I can keep up with all of them, much quieter over here."

Dudley turned and looked at the voice, a pretty blonde with gray eyes, and what looked like a stick sticking out from her hair. "Ugh, yeah, sorry, I mean, no, nobody's been sitting here, just me."

She gave a smile, "Wanted to check, just incase I just couldn't see them, wouldn't be right to sit where someone was already just because I can't see them. I'm Luna by the way, Luna Lovegood." offering her hand to him.

He gave a slight gulp at the offered hand, "Dudley Dursley. Nice to meet you."

"Dudley, Dudley, wait, Harry's cousin?" she asked and he looked uncertain, was it a good thing or a bad to be his cousin. Dudley was more surprised Harry would have even mentioned him to anyone, they didn't get along, especially when they were younger and Dudley had taken to trying to beat him up at any given moment.

"Ugh, yeah, yeah, I'm Harry's cousin, he invited me but since I didn't really know anyone, I wasn't sure."

"Oh, that's ok, I understand, and Harry likes to keep to himself too, it's how I figured you were related, you also have a few similar features. Harry looks the same way when he's not certain, and doesn't think anyone else is looking."

"Just how close are you to Harry?" He asked, was this a girl that made him more interested in blokes, that wouldn't be a good sign, had they school friends, oh right that stick must be her wand. Interesting place to put it, though, almost made sense, she'd not be as noticeable to others as being a witch.

"Friends, I'm the same year as Ginny, that's how I met Harry, year below'm in school. I was also in a club with him as well, when he was teaching us, before everything." she added, then turned to the bartender and ordered a drink.

He looked confused as to who Ginny was, but shrugged it off, was probably just another person from school that he knew. Apparently there were a lot more of these wizards and witches then he knew, or thought existed. Yes, while they had a school he didn't think it was more of a handful or so of the 'freaks' as his parents called them, but he was starting to learn more and more bits about this group that he only knew the sheer existence of and not more then that.

They talked and drank, Luna telling him about the creatures she was studying and looking for, apparently she'd be famous for discovering a few creatures. Dudley tried telling her a bit about himself, though he didn't seem quite as interesting as she was, though Luna kept asking questions and seemed somewhat interested in him and what he did. As the night went on they got into a good conversation and the rest of the people just seemed to drift away, even the loud noises of them became less and less noticeable. When it was almost closing time, Dudley could hardly believe he had spent the whole night talking to this witch who was really interesting, pretty, and didn't care that he knew just about nothing about her world, even if he was related to Harry freaking Potter. Looking at his watch, he realised just how late it was.

"I'm so sorry, I need to get going, I still need to get them a gift, and I'm supposed to see my parents before I head to where the thing is, they don't know Harry's getting married yet. We, we didn't get along as kids and mum and dad still don't really acknowledge he even exists."

"Oh, that's sad, Harry's such a good person, I'm glad though he's got you for family. You really are quite nice, and a great cousin to him. I couldn't imagine you are that strained with him, he invited you here, and to the wedding, he must still think highly of you."

"Oh, he said it was because he needed family to be there, so I'm a matter of convenience rather than actually wanting me there. I'm supposed to just say yes, about something, then enjoy the dinner and drinks and such and then go on my way."

"Really, I haven't known any type of wedding that needed that, I was sure they were having the same ceremony as Ron and Hermione had, and Hermione's parents are muggles, and weren't actually able to make it. Altered the memories before the war to be sure they were ok, hasn't figured a way around it yet, way better at magic than the average person, so a simple fix just won't' work."

"Well, I know you'll already be there, and it is a bit last moment, you don't have, er, a date yet to the wedding do you? It was nice talking to you, and you can explain some of the stuff to a muggle like me?" Dudley stammered, the few drinks starting to take effect that he'd been consuming.

"Oh, um, that'd be really nice, I hadn't given a thought to bringing someone, I spend a bunch of time looking for those creatures, and a bunch of others liked to poke fun of me in school. Never the Weasleys, Harry or Hermione, though, they've been all great friends.

"Oh, I still need to get them something, would you want to meet me there, and we can head over together? I was thinking over by One New Change, it's over by St. Paul's, I think Harry said I need to be somewhere by there."

"Yes, that'd be good, I know about where that is, and I can get you to where the wedding is, it is in a wizarding area, though not to hard to get to from there."

"How about noon? Gives time to get there, right? Harry said it started at 2 on the invitation."

"That sounds great, if you walk I think it takes about a half hour, though we can travel like wizards if we need and you want to try it."

"That I'm not sure of, maybe I'll stick with walking for the moment…."

"Dudley, Dudley! You made it mate! Luna!" They heard coming from the other room. Harry came stumbling out with a red haired boy who seemed to be trying to hold him up and scanning the room for someone.

"Harry, yeah, though I was about to leave, need to do breakfast with mum and dad. Aunt Marge is visiting."

"That's crazy Dudley, just skip it, She may not be a witch, but she's a real.."

"Harry, Why doesn't Ron take you back? I think if you leave now, Ginny won't see you, and I don't believe you probably want her to see you like this."

"Great idea Luna! You are the BESHT!" Harry exclaimed leaning forward giving her a large hug. She gave him a few pats on the back then gave him back to the redheaded guy.

"I'll see you in the few days mate, it'll be good. I do need to get going though." Dudley paused, then looking back over to Luna, "It really was nice meeting you, I'll see you later then, noon?"

Luna gave a smile and a nod, "I'll be there." she said as she turned to finish paying her tab, then ordering Harry a glass of water and handing it to him.

Dudley left the bar with a grin, the night had gone much better than he had expected. He was there at the party, though didn't need to partake in any odd wizard ritual they may have planned or done while he was in the other room. Luna, she was an unexpected surprise at the bar, he didn't think he'd meet a girl like her, she was different, something he really, really liked. She didn't act superior because she was a witch, she hardly even brought it up, only when she was talking about her work and studies and those creatures she was looking for and learning about. Some of them sounded pretty cool. Hailing a cab he took it to his flat and headed up to go to bed. He wasn't sure whether to dread meeting with his parents and aunt, or to look forward to Harry's wedding and seeing Luna again. If someone had asked him even a few days ago, it would have been switched, he didn't mind his parents, Aunt Marge wasn't his favorite person though. Harry's wedding had actually been something he was dreading and now it was with excitement that he thought about it, or maybe not the wedding, just the seeing Luna again.

The next morning found Dudley waking up at 6am, which was a surprise for anyone. He was up, washed up and had decided it was just safer to wear his suit to breakfast and be careful. He supposed this would be the one moment being a wizard wouldn't be horrible, cleaning up a quick mess or a spot. Hopefully it wouldn't happen. Taking the quick trip to the cafe where he was meeting his relations was painless, he arrived before they did, ordered a quick and small something and was just getting his food when they arrived. His parents and aunt didn't comment on his outfit, though they seemed a bit surprised, just didn't say anything. They chatted and ate till 10:30 when he glanced at the time and said he had to get going. He still needed to get something for Harry and Jimmy, and wasn't sure what. Thankfully maybe Luna could help advise him if he didn't see anything there while wandering around.

Taking a quick cab ride to the department store he got out and saw he had an hour. One hour in which to find something for his cousin he had barely spoken to in the last few years. His cousin who was in a matter of hours marrying another bloke, somehow. 'What do you buy two blokes getting married' he thought to himself as he looked around a bit before stumbling upon the jewelry section.

"Are you looking for anything in particular, sir?" The man at the counter asked Dudley as he was glancing over the displays.

"Yes, um... Those earrings there, How much are they?" he replied

"It's 20, Sir."

"Um, all right. I'll have it."

"Lovely. Would you like it...gift-wrapped?" the man asked with a smile on his face.

"Uh, yes. All right." Dudley responded, that was a good idea, then nobody would notice it while bring in gifts for his cousin.

"Lovely. Let me just pop it in the box right there."

"Look, could we be quite quick?" he asked, looking around nervous, it was almost noon and he was getting nervous as it was.

"Certainly, sir. Ready in the flashiest of flashes." the man said, making odd motions with his hand, "There."

Dudley smiled, "That's great."

"Not quite finished." The man said, shaking his finger, placing the box with the earrings in a bag.

"Look, actually, l-I don't need a bag." Dudley said, reaching for the gift, "I'll just put it in my pocket."

"Oh, this isn't a bag, sir." he responded, continuing his wrapping job, dismissing Dudley's hand.

"Really?" Dudley retorted, not so sure about this whole endeavor.

"This is so much more, than a bag." He replied.

Dudley was starting to get a bit annoyed with this guy, he was going to make him late, or worse, Luna would see what was going on. "Ooh! Could we be, quite quick, please?" he was trying to stay nice.

"Prontissimo!" the man said, then reaching into a drawer he couldn't see pulled out a stick and added it into the bag.

"What's that?" He asked, wondering what the stick was for, or maybe what the guy was on with all this craziness.

"It's a cinnamon stick, sir." He responded as a matter of factly.

"Actually, I really, uh, can't wait." Dudley stated, getting a bit annoyed with the guy.

"Oh, you won't regret it, sir."

"Wanna bet?" Dudley mumbled under his breath, barely audible to the man.

"Tis but the work of a moment. There we go. Almost finished." he said as he put the stick in the bag as well as a few other things Dudley wasn't sure in there as well.

"Almost finished?" Dudley questioned him, "What else can there be? Are you gonna dip it in yogurt? Cover it with chocolate buttons?" Dudley added, starting to get quite annoyed, and ready to walk away from the guy. It was almost noon.

"Oh, no, sir." He said with a laugh, "We're just going to pop it in the holiday box.

"But I don't want a box."

"But you said you wanted it gift-wrapped."

"I did, but…" He started to say before he was interrupted.

"This is the final flourish."

"Can I just pay?" Dudley said, reaching into his pocket to get his wallet out.

"All we need now…"

'Oh, God!' He thought and nearly mumbled to himself.

"Is a sprig of…" The man started to say before Dudley stopped him.

"Sir, while I appreciate it all, I really do have to get this paid for, as the recipient should be here shortly and I'd like to surprise her with it later." He said, almost pleading, and he was finally granted that moment of pity. The box being rung up and his card taken. Dudley managed to get his wallet in his pocket and take the box to the pocket of his suit just as he heard her voice coming from behind him.

"Dudley, Hi!" Luna said, she looked wonderful in her dress, it was a very pale blue which went wonderfully with her grey eyes and her blonde hair which was tied up in a fancy bit on her head.

"Luna, you look amazing! Not that you didn't last night, just…"

"Thank you ." she said, not making him finish his thought. "Did you get what you needed for them?" she added, a bit confused as she didn't think Harry or Ginny were the jewelry type. Ginny was such a tomboy with her brothers and being a quidditch player, and Harry, he was just Harry.

"No, I actually found something else I thought I should get. Honestly, I'm not sure what I should get them. Harry and I didn't talk much since that last year in school, er he was supposed to be there, I guess."

Luna nodded, "I actually have an idea on what they both would enjoy, you just won't find it in these stores." she said with a smile.

"Really, do you think you could help me out, will we still make it in time?" He asked, not wanting them to be late, especially if he needed to be there for Harry to actually get married.

"Oh yes, it'll be fine, and actually on the way, I need to get something at the stop as well." She said and she grabbed his hand and led him out of the store.

Walking and taking the underground which Dudley paid for, as it seemed Luna had never used it before as she seemed a bit confused by the whole thing. They eventually made it to the Leaky Cauldron. It was odd, the place looked pretty run down, though Luna insisted this was where they needed to go. Making the way in and seeing it, and people in there, those people in there. They made their way through when Luna got her wand out and tapped a wall, making the bricks separate and make an opening. He had never seen anything before so neat looking. Now he could understand the appeal and why Harry was always excited to go back every year. Walking along the street she guided him a large building. "You'll have to convert the money you were going to spend into wizarding money, it's a wizarding shop they'd like. 2 options, clothing, or sports."

"Sports? Harry and sports?" Dudley asked a bit confused, Harry was really not the sport type, he was kinda scrawny and could never put a good fight up compared to Dudley.

"Yes, Sports, they both like Quidditch, and quite good at it, both on the school team." Luna said, a bit confused that Dudley hadn't known that about Harry, but if he was a muggle, maybe they just didn't discuss Hogwarts, not wanting Dudley to feel more left out.

"How about clothes, He was always wearing my old stuff, so it'd have a bit of a joke behind it, if you think they'd both enjoy it?" Dudley thought with a laugh, "Maybe make it less uncomfortable, since I really don't know them as well as I suppose I should for being his cousin."

Luna thought for a moment and nodded, "Do you want to go in the bank with me, the goblins run the bank, or would you prefer to wait right here?" she asked, while she thought they were interesting, she wasn't sure how he'd think of them, and it might make the whole transaction quicker too.

"I'll, I'll let you go, you would probably be quicker. I can stay right here." he said.

Dudley grabbed his wallet and the money out to give her, he wasn't sure how much he should do, but he figured £50 would be plenty enough for just him going and handed it over to her. Luna took the money and went in, coming back out about 10 minutes later with a bunch of odd looking money, handing it to him, then leading him to the clothing shop to get a gift voucher for the couple. Luna took care of that for him as well, the shop was looking busy and she stated she had planned to get them one for there as well and would be easier to do it herself.

After the vouchers were bought they headed to another building a few streets off the main road. It looked almost like a chapel, which made some sense, with the exception of the whole business of both being blokes. As they were getting ready to walk up the stairs, Dudley hesitated, fumbling to grab the box from his pocket. "Luna, I, I know this is a bit odd. I actually had gotten these for you. I really do like you, and you've been so nice, and helpful with everything, showing me where and a better idea on what to get them for the wedding."

Luna hesitated and tilted her head to it's side, "I don't find it odd at all, I like you as well Dudley. Would you like me to open it now or wait till later, maybe after the service?"

"I think now would be better, I thought you could use it during the service." He said with a small smile, the earrings really would look great on her with the dress.

Luna smiled and opened up the box, smiling, she found the cinnamon stick in there and her face lit up even more. Dudley wasn't sure what was going on, why anyone would really be excited about that part. She placed it in her hand and then saw the earrings. "Dudley, they look beautiful, and the cinnamon, how thoughtful!" she exclaimed and gave him a hug, him not expecting it at all.

After they separated she placed the earrings in her ears and tilted her head back and for a bit, "How do they look?" she asked him, as she was placing the cinnamon in her hair, though it wouldn't be seen.

"The earrings, yeah, they look wonderful on you, though the cinnamon…"

"It helps ward of the Heliopath! It's so thoughtful of you! How did you even know about them?"

"Harry, he told me about them, I thought it would be good to have it." he lied through his teeth, though Luna was ecstatic.

Walking into the chapel area, he separated from Luna and found Harry, looking nervous, walked up to him, giving him a handshake. "Nervous"

"What's there to be nervous about? Ginny is great. I love her. She understands me, she understands quidditch, likes it as much as I do. She just really gets me, and me, not Hero of the Wizarding world." Harry replied

"Then why aren't you marrying her?" Dudley asked, a bit confused, "Oh, and I told Luna you told me about those Heliopath things, and the cinnamon, so, thanks."

"I am marrying Ginny, what did you think I'd been saying this whole, time, plus was on your invitation might I add." Harry asked Dudley, a bit confused about the creatures also, though it wasn't the time to comment, he was wondering who Dudley thought he was going to marry.

"Jimmy?"

The End

* * *

 **Reviews:** **Any**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


	31. Susan Bones Visits The Cave (Number 30)

**Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas Rare Pairs One-Shot Writing Competition**

 **Entry:** **Susan Bones Visits the Cave** **(Number 30)**

 **All works are a submission to the Wandlore Wordsmiths & Betas email from the facebook group. Stories are submitted by individual authors and author groups, all stories on this profile are works submitted, and not the work of any one author.**

 **Once works have been judged, the author's name will be released. Please respect the spirit of the competition and do not message author's to ask which story belong to them. Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. Thank you for reading!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre:**

 **Pairing:** **Sirius Black/Susan Bones**

 **Trigger Warnings: Underage (almost) sex**

 **Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the Author's represented here are profiting from these stories.**

* * *

 **Susan Bones Visits The Cave**

* * *

Her sudden and short-lived fascination with the owl post was exactly the kind of quirk that kept Susan Bones on the fringes of Hogwarts student life. During the first month of her fourth year, she found herself wandering up the stairs to the owlery every evening and during lunch breaks just to observe the principles she'd spent the summer reading about in

 _The Workings and History of the Owl Post._ And while her bookishness and eccentricities had mostly kept her from fraternizing with the likes of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, for this particular odd hobby she would be forever grateful. It had unexpectedly led her to the most important association of her life - a very off-the-books friendship with Sirius Black.

During her fourth year, when she'd first begun to visit him in a cave just outside of Hogsmeade, he'd been hiding there as a fugitive from the Ministry. She would have been much too cautious to approach the known-mass murderer, even for the sake of curiosity, had it not been for the personal recommendation, given unknowingly, by Harry Potter himself. She'd come to the owlery one night, completely devoid of a desire to snoop - her interest was purely scientific. But a particularly erratic owl had started when she popped her head through the trap door in the floor and shaken a letter free of its leg. She saw that it was addressed to Harry Potter. She saw it signed with the odd pseudonym, Padfoot; and in that moment her inquisitive and searching nature switched its focus from the workings of the owl post to who could possibly be writing Harry such secretive letters. In just two more weeks of haunting the owlery, Susan had intercepted enough letters to know where Padfoot was writing from and had a very good guess who he was and why he was hiding in a cave.

In her second month of her fourth year, during the first visit to Hogsmeade, she had made her way to the outskirts of the village. The other Hogwarts students, including her fellow Hufflepuffs, were in a tizzy; the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were accompanying them to the village and it lent no end of excitement to the outing. It was the easiest thing in the world for the solitary Susan Bones to slip away from the others as Ernie Macmillan talked loudly of his vast knowledge of the history of Hogsmeade in order to impress the Beauxbaton fifth years walking a few paces ahead of the Hufflepuff fourth years.

When she'd entered the cave, she remembered it had taken her eyes moments to adjust, and rather than being face-to-face with a ragged and frightening escaped prisoner, she was blinking at the yellow, fierce eyes of a Hippogriff.

"Oy!" Susan yelled and she jumped back, tripping over a rock behind her and falling solidly onto her behind. And then, a thin arm, draped in a dirty sleeve, reached from the shadows and a slender-fingered hand rested on the hippogriffs neck.

"Stand down, Buckbeak," a hoarse voice whispered, and the man she saw step out of the shadows was indeed frightening.

He had been dismissive and surly with her at first, but convinced that she was nothing more than a curious student. She'd stayed long enough to see the conditions in which he was living, and persuaded him to let her return in a few days with more food and other necessities. Sirius, so eager was he for companionship and convinced of her trustworthiness by her last name, even sat with her a while and told her his story, eager to exonerate himself of his accused crimes in at least one person's eyes. She walked back to school that day shivering with excitement. The man she'd met was in the thick of the action and fight against the Dark Lord and now she was, too.

Susan had visited Sirius every week of her fourth year. It was not difficult for a student to escape the castle for a few hours, especially a student with as much ingenuity as Susan. Her low-profile helped too. In fact, if it wasn't for her total lack of ambition in conventional pursuits, that ingenuity would have absolutely landed her in Ravenclaw House. It was only her desire to fly under the radar that had allowed her to remain in the safe and familiar confines of Hufflepuff.

As the weeks went on, the man she'd seen that first time in the cave became unrecognizable. It wasn't just the changes from haggard to well-fed, and unkempt to clean - his agitation and nerves had been calmed by regular association with someone he trusted. By association with a friend, she hoped to think. Now that Sirius had healed of years of malnutrition and a constant state of fear, she could see that impressive man he was before his imprisonment. Still slender, but agile and well built but not tall; black shiny hair that now hung past his shoulders and sharp, searching eyes. And beyond his incredible good looks, he was clever and arrogant. She was constantly amazed by his resilience; she knew most people went mad within weeks of being imprisoned in Azkaban. Sirius had lived there for years without giving up his sanity. Susan knew he saw her only as a child - that he was grateful for companionship but anyone else trustworthy would have done just as well. However, she had noticed him in ways he would be shocked, and probably amused, to know.

The last she'd seen him was just days before the end of fourth year. Every student had just been ushered frantically away from the site of the third challenge of the triwizard tournament. Cedric Diggory was dead at the hand of Lord Voldemort. The cheery sunshine of the morning had given way to an oppressive rain, and she'd escaped the castle and headed for the hills of Hogsmeade.

The night Susan ran into the cave out of the raging rain on the evening of the third challenge of the triwizard tournament changed everything for Sirius in an instant.

Since that first afternoon she'd wandered into his cave and surprised Buckbeak, he had been grateful that she'd come. It took him a moment to ascertain that she was innocent and good - merely a curious child who believed him when he told her the truth about his supposed crimes. With her straight thin nose and thick dark eyebrows, not to mention the glasses that guarded her serious eyes, she had seemed even younger than his godson Harry. And while he'd come to understand her better - as her quiet earnestness had been replaced by the unconscious confidence of a person who has naturally come by all the intelligence and competence they've ever needed - she was still a child to him. She'd come, week after week, with whatever food, blankets, or other gifts she thought would make him comfortable and listened to him talk. Occasionally, the conversation would lead to her interests and pursuits, and he'd laugh as he learned about her unlikely fascination with owl post or the weeks she'd spent one summer everything she could find on her father's ancient runes shelf in the library.

Hair plastered to her head from the rain and out of breath, Susan had surprised him that night during her fourth year when she'd stumbled into the cave. He hadn't expected her for two days more and had already settled onto his mat and blankets with a book, lantern dimly glowing beside him. In surprise, he sprung into sitting position, and then his breath caught in his throat.

"Hi," Susan breathed as she reached the shelter of the cave, and immediately removed her glasses to dry them on her sopping shirt. She was wearing a ratty, threadbare Hufflepuff shirt in support of the triwizard tournament, probably the only piece of school-spirit paraphernalia she owned, Sirius guessed. Soaked from the rain, the thin t-shirt clung to her narrow, sculpted shoulders and to her heavy breasts. "Well, these are useless now," she said quietly, looking up from her water-spotted glasses, and as she hung them from the v-neck collar of her t-shirt, it pulled her shirt down another inch revealing just a bit of her decolletage. She used both hand to smooth her wet hair away from her face. She looked flushed, but cold - and serious - and he realized her face was beautiful. Sirius also realized he had hesitated a moment too long, and he was gaping obviously.

"Hi Bonesy," he said with a forced casualness and turned his flushed face away from her as he rose from his mat. Embarrassed at his mistake, he took an extra moment to pull down his shirt and brush his hair away from his face. Surely, he thought, she would be disgusted; he was much older than her, and he knew she admired him in an intellectual way, as a mentor. And

until this moment, he had thought of her as a child, only as a peer to Harry, though her friendship was invaluable to him. He was surprised when it seemed she hadn't noticed his hungry stare after all.

"Sirius, don't joke now," she said seriously, still catching her breath from her run up to the cave. Normally when he used that nickname, Susan laughed and rolled her eyes, so this time her solemn manner caught him off guard. He started toward her, and as he neared her in the dim cave, he could see that her solemnity was really carefully guarded fear.

"Susan, what is it?" he said, his voice sounding loud even to himself. He caught her by the arm as she tried to step away, telling himself his desire to comfort and protect her was driven by their long-standing friendship and not the sudden moment of lust he'd experienced seconds before.

She looked up at him, suddenly very still and very aware of his warm hand clutched on her cold forearm. "Cedric Diggory was killed tonight in the Triwizard Tournament. By Voldemort." She gazed up into his eyes, and he could see that she knew that while this was alarming to her, it would mean even more to him. He felt his heart go cold and a pit form in his stomach; the man who had killed his best friends and caused him to spent more than a decade in the cold despair of Azkaban was back. It took only a moment for the flame of vengeance to reignite in his chest. His mind raced, and he barely noticed as she pulled away from him and stepped away from the light of the blue twilight and into the warm glow of the lantern. He needed to think.

"Susan, stay," he said, and distractedly handed her a warm shirt from his small collection of clean clothes. He walked to the mouth of the cave and stood, arms akimbo, staring out into the rain. When he finally pulled himself from his racing thoughts and back to reality, he turned to see Susan fast asleep, in his shirt and tucked under the blankets of his mat. Her hair was beginning to dry, more unkempt than he'd seen it before, and as the yellow glow of lantern flickered on her face, his feelings from earlier returned, though tamer this time. She was lovely. And not really a child after all. He knew she would be sixteen in just a few weeks, when the

summer began. Seeing her laying in his bed, with the memory of her figure in her soaked clothes fresh in his memory, he saw a desirable woman. He felt his face flush again, embarrassed by his attraction to this girl so much his junior, but he could not deny it, nor did he want to. She was smart and capable, and long ago he'd realized that he was lucky that he'd been discovered and aided by no ordinary girl. However, no matter what he told himself, she was much too young for him, so he tucked his feelings into the far corners of his mind, and focused on the matters at hand - the life and death matters concerning the return of Lord Voldemort.

Susan sat on her dormitory bed, waiting for Hannah Abbott to finish gathering her scattered homework and leave her in privacy. It was the second month of her fifth year, and she'd just received news that had shaken her to her core. Her Uncle Edgar and his whole family had been murdered by Death Eaters; perhaps murdered by the Dark Lord himself. Until this moment, the wizarding war had frightened her in a remote sort of way, but her day-to-day life had remained unaffected. When Professor Dumbledore had summoned her to his office she'd been surprised; when he broke the news, kindly but grimly, of her family's deaths, she had gone pale and numb. I'll _go to Sirius,_ was her first rational thought as she walked stiffly away from Dumbledore's office and to her dormitory. She'd immediately sent a message to Sirius, who had been trapped in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for months.

 _"Come now, darling,"_ came Sirius's reply on her enchanted Galleon, just as Hannah finally left the room. She'd gotten the idea from the coins Hermione had made for her and all the members of the DA, and it had worked perfectly as a communication method between she and Sirius. They'd continued to correspond through the summer months, but she still hadn't seen him since that night of Cedric's death. Something had changed that night. He'd seemed so embarrassed by something she'd done. Admittedly, as she'd hiked through the rain to his cave, she'd imagined she would arrive and fall into his arms in tears. She had yearned to touch him for months - and she'd hoped she'd spend that night, not just in his bed, but wrapped in his comforting embrace. He must have sensed her desire, and surely it was laughable and

awkward for him to realize that she wanted him - a child in love with a hero. He hadn't touched her that night, even for a hug of consolation. His letters to her over the summer had been different than their previous correspondence, less natural but strangely also more intimate, in a way. Even his message on the galleon now, was surprising. Pet names hadn't ever gone beyond his ridiculous nickname for her, "Bonesy". She fingered the galleon, gently rubbing her finger across the word "darling".

When she heard Hannah reach the bottom of the stairs, she quickly packed her knapsack and darted down the stairs. Rather than follow Hannah into the common room, she pushed through a small secret door and out the secret passageway few Hufflepuff students had ever discovered. A simple disillusionment charm and a carefully planned course got her safely out Hogwart's gate and into Hogsmeade, and all that was left was a trek to the Hog's Head where she'd wait until the fireplace was unattended and use the Floo Network to travel to Grimmauld Place. As she carefully skittered from one shadowy alleyway to the next and then waited in the uncrowded bar room of the Hog's Head, she had time to sort through her feelings.

She was shaken from the loss of her uncle, and when she'd initially decided to go to Sirius, she had told herself it was to be with a friend, someone who understood her. But as the minutes passed, she knew what she wanted was physical comfort. At first, she thought perhaps if this time she fell into his arms in tears and he let her stay there, it would be enough. But between the emotional trauma she was experiencing now and her long suppressed physical longing for Sirius, she decided abruptly now was no time for caution. No time for preserving her dignity or resisting her desires in order to preserve a friendship. She knew there was a strong possibility he would push her away, laughing at her juvenile antics, but she was beyond caring. By the time the room was clear near the fireplace of the Hog's head, Susan was resolute: She would try to seduce Sirius. A few moments of pleasure to drive the pain away was all she wanted now.

Sirius stood in kitchen of Grimmauld place, eyes glued to the fireplace, every inch of his body on edge as he waited for the flames to turn green. The past few months had nearly driven him as mad as he had felt at the end of his tenure in Akzaban.

He was a frustrated man. While his friends fought the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters from the shadows, he was practically imprisoned here in his childhood home. Every death of a good wizard he read about in the morning _Daily Prophet_ sent a rush of hot anger surging through him. He was isolated here, rarely seeing other members of the Order of the Phoenix. While his associates risked life and limb every day, he ate poor meals he cooked himself and shuffled around the dark and dusty house, every detail of which reminded him of his miserable upbringing.

To multiply his frustration ten-fold, he had hardly stopped thinking about Susan since that moment she'd stumbled into his cave out of the rain the night Lord Voldemort had returned. In the daytime, he managed to push thoughts of her away, save for the friendly letters they exchanged, where he thought he had done a reasonable job of hiding his frustration and confusion. In the nights, however, dreams of her came to him unbidden. It was the same narrative he dreamed almost every night.

 _He was back in his cave in the warm glow of the lantern and rain was falling outside. Suddenly, there she was, nipples hard again her thin t-shirt, her lips and shoulders shivering from the cold but her cheeks flushed from the frantic trek through the hills. In his dream, he wasn't surprised by her beauty, and he rose from his bed with one desire. As he stepped_

 _across the cave toward her she didn't shrink away, but stood watching him curiously, and her eyes widened as he deftly tugged the sopping shirt and her bra over her head in one motion. He lifted one hand to a hard nipple, gripping it firmly between two fingers and she gasped as he used his other hand to undo her jeans._

Sometimes he awoke at that moment, and other blissful nights, he had her in his warm bed, completely disrobed when he finally awoke. Naturally, he was an absolute mess day-in and day-out; he dreaded but also longed for the night so he could dream of Susan and let out some of his pent-up frustration.

It wasn't just a sexual desire for her that alarmed him - he admired and respected her more than any other woman he'd ever known besides Lily Potter. The difference was that Lily had always been with James, and Sirius had never thought of her as anything but a sister. But Susan reminded him of Lily in many ways - her intelligence, her lack of self-consciousness, her curiosity, her composure. This admiration paired with the sudden attraction he'd felt that last night in the cave was a dangerous combination.

Originally, his whole plan regarding Susan was to suppress his feelings until they went away, but as the months wore on that seemed increasingly impossible, nor did he want to resist much longer. He _wanted_ to be with her, to grab her and kiss her the moment she stepped out of the fireplace. However, she was coming here driven by grief; with her uncle and his family

gone, the only person left in Susan's whole family was her Aunt Amelia. Amelia Bones was a great witch, and surely she would care for Susan, but still, Susan must feeling very alone and scared. He gazed intently at the flames, and as they began to glow green, he still had no idea what he would do when he saw her.

When she stepped out of the fire and he saw her pale, serious face, he knew her well enough to recognize the pain etched into her expression. His sexual desires went dormant and an overwhelming protectiveness and anger welled up inside him. He reached for her, drawing her to him gently but firmly. Even though he'd known she was in pain, he was still surprised when she burst into tears against his chest. He held her as tightly as he could, his throat constricted by worry and anger. When her sobs gentled, he held her to him as he eased himself into a soft chair that sat by the fire. She sat in his lap, head against his neck, so still he thought she'd gone to sleep. As he sat there, touching her with so much of his body, his desire reawakened. He fought against it, ashamed of himself. He would not take advantage of this trusting young women who'd come to him for comfort. Suddenly, she lifted her head. "Can I change? I wouldn't mind a warm shower either," she said in a remarkably calm voice, so at odds with the sobbing from minutes before.

"Yes, of course," he answered. "I want to talk to you though. You must be so frightened." "Maybe later. I don't want to talk about anything now." And she walked up the stair, she looked back over her shoulder and said, "Can I use your room?"

"Of course," he repeated. He stayed where he was in the chair by the fire, watching her climb the stair and turn to his room. He heard the water of the shower turn on, and he marveled how quickly she'd gone from distraught to composed. In fact, that was the first time Susan had lost control of her emotions in front of him and already it seemed unreal. That feeling of holding her to him, comforting her, was so surprising and unfamiliar that it was already slipping away. He sat there gazing into the fire for a long time. When he realized the shower had shut off long ago, maybe even an hour before, he rose to check on her.

Susan had dropped into Sirius' bed the moment she'd dried off from the shower and immediately fallen asleep. She'd slept almost an hour and awakened refreshed, only a little chagrined by the memory of her crying spell in Sirius' arms. When she'd first seen him as she stepped out of the fire, her deep grief had returned, replacing her reckless desire to seduce him. Now however, as she stood with her back to the door as she rummaged through her overnight bag, her resolve began to creep back. She heard his footsteps on the stairs just a moment before he knocked on the door.

"Susan, you've been up here a long time. Can I come in?" Sirius' voice was concerned, and Susan hesitated a moment before answering. She stood there in just panties and her old hufflepuff t-shirt, and her first instinct was to shout for him to wait a moment so she could cover up. She made a decision in an instant.

"Come in," she called as casually as she could manage, without looking up from her bag, her back to the door. She heard the door swing open, and Sirius yelped. She turned her head in time to see him swing his face away from her and grip the door frame with his hand.

"Merlin, Susan! Why did you tell me to come in if you weren't... you didn't have..." He went quiet and still, and as she took a step toward him, she could see his knuckles were white from the intensity with which he gripped the door. She was warm with embarrassment, but her resolve to confront him was strengthening. Two more steps took her within inches of him. He stiffened further as he felt her near him.

"Sirius," she breathed, and he turned to face her sharply. His face was blank, unreadable, but she refused to let the flush creeping into her own face deter her. She reached up a tentative hand and briefly touched his chest, withdrew, and then settled it on his forearm, still reaching toward the door frame. "Sirius, I want you. I want you in bed with me, not just holding me in your arms as I cry by the fire." She watched him and he remained motionless, and she thought she could see emotion in his eyes. _Is that sadness? Embarrassment? Anger?_ Any confidence she'd felt moments ago began to slip away as the seconds passed. She took one last searching gaze up at his face and looked away. Just as she began to step away from him, his arm shot out to her waist and he spun her around. She had a split-second to glimpse blazing passion in his eyes before she was crushed by his body against the wall, his mouth on hers. He kissed her violently, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her shoulders.

As she adjusted to the surprise of what had just happened, Susan reached her hands just under his shirt and rested them lightly on his hips. His kiss on her mouth slowed when he felt her touch on his skin, and he lowered his hand to rest on her shoulders. He pulled away for a moment to look carefully at her. "Susan," he nearly choked on the words. "Do you really want this? Never once did I realize that you wanted this." She looked at his beautiful face, normally so self-assured, now uncertain. She reached up with hand to cover his on her shoulder. She guided it down and around the back of her waist.

"Sirius, I have never wanted anything more. I love you." His eyes were unreadable again. His face was dark, serious, tense as he leaned into her. He kissed her slowly and deeply, and she could feel his body growing hot. His warm hand slid slowly but deliberately from her waist to cup the cheek of her buttocks, and his fingertips slid just underneath the edges of her panties. She gasped as he squeezed tightly and upwards so her pelvis tilted against him and her feet lifted a fraction of an inch off the ground. The kiss lasted a full minute, his other hand exploring her bare back beneath her thin t-shirt. She felt him growing hard against her pelvis, and when his kiss had become so deep and relentless she could hardly breath, he stopped abruptly and released her. He seemed to move toward the bed and then stopped uncertainly.

Susan slipped her small, cool hand into his warm one and pulled him to the bed. She meticulously pulled his shirt over his head and unzipped his pants before laying down slowly on her back on the soft bed. He lay down on top of her, his pants still on and their bodies flush, his penis throbbing against her. She rubbed her hands down his hard, muscular thighs and then held her breath as his hand slipped up her shirt and cupped her heavy breast. He took his nipple between her fingertips gently, and then not gently. She expected his mouth on hers again, but instead he pulled her shirt up and put her other nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing until she was moaning. Then she felt him pulsing against her thighs again and he let out a stifled moan of his own, and when she moved her hand from his thigh to wrap around his penis, he released her breast and caught her by the wrist.

"Stop," he growled. She looked up at him surprised and saw anguish on his face. Slowly, he rose from the bed, stooped to pick up his shirt, and then took a step toward the door. "I'm so sorry. Come out when you're dressed." And with a look of pain, he turned from her and walked out the door. Susan lay on the bed panting, confused and angry. Her underwear was soaked and she was throbbing. She closed her eyes and for one tormented moment, remembered the feel of his mouth on her nipple and his long thick hair gripped between her fingers. She pressed her hands over her eyes and groaned in frustration. Nothing else could feel as bad as this - her sheer desire to have him inside her in this moment, her anger and frustration in the man she loved. For a moment, she had thought he might love her back, or at least that he wanted her in the same way she wanted him. She realized she was trembling, and stood up from the bed. As the anguish of desire passed, shame overcame her. Quickly, she gathered her few belongings back into the overnight bag and pulled her jeans over her underwear.

Sirius leaned against the wall outside his bedroom, and heard as Susan rose from the bed and began packing her things. He'd never been angrier with himself. _She is sixteen years old!_ He hadn't been expecting her overture and his self-control had fled completely. And in all these months of longing for her, he had lost sight of the fact that there were things keeping him from her besides her disinterest. She was underage. His anger at himself continued to churn through his mind, but as he closed his eyes, he saw her again laying on the bed beneath him -beautiful, and to his astonishment, _in love with him._ He knew she must be angry with him now, and when the door swung open and she came flying out, he could see he wasn't wrong.

"Susan, wait," he said, and she jumped at his words, obviously unaware he hadn't gone downstairs to wait for her. When she spun toward him he was surprised to see that, though she was definitely angry, there was more shame than anger in her face. Hot tears flooded her eyes.

"Why did you stop?" she spat at him. "You could have at least finished the job and I would have felt a little less a fool. I told you I love you! And you still kissed me! How could you?" Tears were streaming down her face now and he could see her losing all control as her shoulders stooped and her sobs came quickly. "My family is gone and I thought I'd at least still have you. But I don't want to be here anymore." She ran down the stairs, so fast that he nearly missed his chance to stop her. She was down the stairs and just steps from the fireplace when he finally caught up to her and gripped her arms. She resisted with all her strength, but he turned her and held her tightly by both shoulders. The mixture of anger and sadness he was feeling was so strong he could hardly speak, and when he began, his voice broke and his own eyes filled with tears.

"I-," he forced himself to hold her gaze, her eyes blazing. "I'm so sorry, Susan." He refused to let go of her shoulders when she scoffed and attempted to turn away from him. "No, please! Listen! I- I love you! Susan, I haven't stopped thinking about you since I last saw you in the cave before the summer. Please, try to understand. When you came to me up there, I forgot every reason we shouldn't be together because I wanted you so badly. You're only sixteen - underage! I'm just glad I stopped myself before we did things we'd regret forever."

"Glad?" she sputtered. "I'm so glad you're glad," she said sarcastically, and struggled against his grip again. He held her tighter, searching for something he could tell her that would comfort her, but he didn't know what to do. He wanted to be with her more than anything, and finally, his urge to comfort overcame his better judgment again. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth - the softest, most sincere kiss he could manage - and hoped that it would at least assure her that she had nothing to be ashamed of. She stopped struggling when he kissed her, but held herself very still, and he was aware of her distrust.

He put his arms around her slender waist and pulled her to him, kissing her more deeply but still gently. When she relaxed into him, he pulled his mouth from hers and whispered to her, "I love you so much. You are not a fool," and as they kissed again, he felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks onto his. Her hands rested on his chest, and Sirius realized he would do anything for this girl, and that he didn't ever want to be without her. He made a decision in an instant.

"Susan," he said, and she looked up at him, serious and sad. "Marry me. Come back to me on your seventeenth birthday and marry me." She pulled away from him slightly, shocked. She was silent for a moment.

"I turn seventeen when fifth year is over - this June. Sirius, do you mean it?" Her voice caught on the last word, and she regarded him with a tense wonder that he thought - he hoped -was suppressed joy. He drew her to him again and whispered his affirmation to her. When she spoke again, she drew back enough to look at him seriously again. "You won't see me again until my birthday then. I won't come to you here until it's because we're going to be together."

"I understand. Write to me though. I have to know you're safe and happy. And I want to remind you how much I love you every single day." It felt so good to tell her aloud that he loved her. He released her from his embrace and she moved toward the fireplace. "I'll see you in June, darling," he said as she stepped into the glowing green flames.

She was gone. He felt a mixture of sadness at her departure and elation at the sudden change that had occurred in the course of his life. She would be his wife - the most beautiful and capable woman he could have wished for - and he'd finally be able to protect and comfort Susan whenever she needed him. Perhaps that knowledge would make the coming months of hiding out in this miserable old house a bit more bearable. He decided to wait to tell Harry. No doubt the news would shock him, but as Harry was going to come live with him here at Grimmauld Place at the end of his fifth year, he'd have to break the news before then. He went to bed that night with a lightness in his heart that hadn't been there since before his time in Azkaban, and he dreamed of Susan.

* * *

 **Reviews:** **No preference**

 **Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.**


End file.
